


we see our fate, you hear our cries

by venomedveins



Series: of magic & monsters extra content [3]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fighting, Funeral, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Past Mpreg, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 10:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14042700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: Agron and Nasir are forced to travel to Lido's home in Maerif for Kallistos' funeral. New horrors come to light and not all wounds are as healed as one thought.





	we see our fate, you hear our cries

**Author's Note:**

> Holy hell I'm back! 
> 
> Well, kinda. I have been going through a lot lately and this fic has been in the works for a very long time. Thank you to all of you who have written me and sent your love. It means a lot. Also, as always, none of this would have been possible without habibinasir.
> 
> This is going to be the last 'long' installment in this fic universe. It is a piece that I always had in mind and I am so glad I got to bring it to you. 
> 
> My next project will be finishing the Agron/Nasir/Duro thriller and then hopefully a few fun one shots (probably high school/college au). 
> 
> Enjoy!

The flames crackle and wave, glowing orange and then yellow, sparkles drifting up into the chimney. They've put logs of birch on, sprinkled with cedar. It sends slow trails of warm smoke towards the ceiling, helping to keep the frost from the room and filling it with the thick scent of forest. The snow has billowed up on the window sills, closing in the king's suite - separate and silent compared to the rest of the castle.

Nasir is tucked in the corner of a couch, a thick fur blanket spread over his legs. He's been trying to mend an impossible hole in one of Malik's play outfits, torn from shifting back and forth into a wolf. He's nearly four and already has mastered it, standing one moment as a fuming boy and in the next as a cub, hackles raised. Sepp is slower, can half shift when he's angry enough or needs attention. Agron still has to coax him with soft growls, nosing at Sepp's neck until he trusts himself enough to sink into wolf form.

The darkness that lingers inside of Sepp forces him quick to rages, throwing temper tantrums easily and readily if he doesn't get his way. He's still young enough to be picked up and cuddled, soothed and talked down, but Nasir knows that it will only get worse. Sepp's wrath when he reaches teenage years are verging on dangerous.

They're asleep now though, sharing a room tucked to the right of the main bedroom. Hidden away with Apep watching, Kieran now takes up residence in the nursery. Six months and Kieran stares, always calculating, absorbing all that is around him. He likes to lay between Agron and Nasir in bed, soothed by hearing the soft voices of his parents talking back and forth. Growls soft when someone tries to take his toys away from him, especially the cloth books that have been painstakingly embroidered by Nasir and Mira to reflect both Pythonissam and Alptraum words. Will only allow Agron, Nasir, and Spartacus to read to him.

It is a little family that is growing, and one that Nasir cannot believe he is blessed to have. Once these rooms were full of blood, of carnage and disaster, and now all has been washed away - replaced by hope and three little heirs.

Nasir knows the hour must be late by the way he's losing concentration on the stitches before him. He's contemplating going in and laying down when the tell tale signs of Agron's approach sound down the hall. It's the long strided clip of boots on stone, of soft murmured "Majesty" as guards bow, of the front chamber doors being unlocked. Nasir rolls his head back against the couch to watch him enter, still amazed at the flutter inside of his chest.

Agron isn't wearing armor, but instead a thin tunic of emerald green, the coloring making his eyes seem to shimmer. It's embroidered with thick trees and wolves, tucked into the waistband of leather pants. By the thick golden crown around his temples, it is clear that Agron has been in meetings with high officials until late into the night.

"Fuck the gods, I thought I was never going to be free from those shits."

"Congratulations on your escape." Nasir teases, grinning when Agron rolls his eyes.

"Every day with something new. You'd think grown men could solve their own problems." Agron unclasps his sword belt, leaning it over against a random chair. "Even Spartacus lost temper."

"But then what would they need their most just king for?" Nasir's mockery is easy and light, not meaning as a barb.

Groaning, Agron moves across the floor until he's close enough to cup the side of Nasir's face, caressing a strand of hair from his cheek. The feeling in Nasir's chest only seems to grow, igniting down into the pit of his stomach, overwhelmed. Agron leans in for a kiss, the angle awkward over the back of the couch but Nasir still leans into it, lifting his fingers to entwine in Agron's hair.

"To what do I owe such a passionate welcome?" Nasir murmurs, barely being able to breathe, even when Agron draws back enough to gasp.

"I have missed you today." Agron confesses, nuzzling against Nasir's jaw. "Is that so strange to believe?"

"No, my love."

Nasir shifts onto his back, his pile of mending falling to the floor as he re-situates, arms reaching up. Agron takes it as invitation, hoisting himself over the back of the couch and to straddle Nasir's lap. He pins him back against the arm, muffling Nasir's laughter with his mouth, hushing the giggles.

Arms looped over Agron's shoulders, Nasir arches up against his husband, his body already feverish with the way Agron's touching him. Fingers curled in Nasir's hair, Agron's mouth is sweltering and greedy, tongue evading Nasir's mouth and curling along his teeth. He kisses like a man starved, unrelenting as Nasir gasps between their lips. Nasir's legs are trapped beneath the blanket, pinned to the soft cushions of the couch, and yet he can feel Agron's hard length against him, already solid and warm, grinding in slow drags against him.

He finally offers some reprieve as Agron moves back, only to latch on a moment later to Nasir's neck. He bites hard and then sucks, worrying the skin between teeth and his tongue, sending hot shivers against Nasir, cock twitching. Nerves on fire, Nasir can do nothing but press into it, surrendering to the fact he will wear marks of his husband's lust tomorrow and all of court will know. It has been like this for some time though, and Nasir cannot help the curl of possession that takes over when lords and ladies notice he has not lost Agron's interest.

"Agron!" Nasir gasps, shocked as Agron's fingers slide from his hair, ghost over his neck, down onto his chest, gripping the sides of his tunic and tugging. He's too eager, too rough as small pearl buttons scatter, shirt halfway ripped open.

"Fuck." Agrom mumbles, eyes wild as he glances down at Nasir's body. He seems entranced, parting the soft fabric with an easy flick of his fingers. He finds what he wants, Nasir's nipples hardening in the cool air, peaking when Agron exhales across them.

"Agron, the boys - We should move - Oh!" Nasir's head slams into the air rest, nails scrambling over fabric to tear at Agron's shoulders, the sudden pain pleasure causing him to arch his back. He's still feeding Kieran, chest sore and full when Agron latches onto him, fist flicking his tongue over Nasir's nipple to keep it hard before pressing his lips down and sucking. He's an expert at it now and Nasir feels as if he's going to crawl out of his skin, trapped under Agron's weight and unable to move.

Trailing his fingertips over Nasir's sternum, Agron lets his thumb rub over Nasir's other nipple in slow circles, playing with the nub and keeping it hard. He starts leaking nearly instantly, and Agron is poised to latch onto it when a small sound interrupts them.

"Daddy? What are you doing?"

The way the couch is positioned allows for only the top of Nasir's head to be showing, Agron's body rising up over the arm to stare directly into Malik's slowly blinking eyes. He looks half awake, leaning on the doorframe with his stuffed sword tucked against his side.

"Hey little man. What are you doing up?" Agron's voice is jagged, trying his hardest to stay still. Below him, Nasir has frozen, pleasure turned to horror.

"Thirsty." Malik mutters, rubbing at his eye. "What are you doing? Where is Baba?"

For once panicked moment, Agron draws a blank, unable to breathe as Nasir stares up at him. The lie that comes out of his mouth is purely weak and he's blessed to be talking to a toddler, not a grown adult.

"Baba is sleeping. I was just tucking him in."

Agron very slowly stands from the couch, dragging the blanket up Nasir's body. He doesn't just stop at his chest, but with a sideways grin, Agron pulls the fur over Nasir's blushing face. This is the third time this has happened since Malik learned to crawl out of his bed. Once had been in the middle of the act, Agron deep within Nasir, bent nearly in half when Malik had pushed back the tent flap. Agron had the mind then to roll off the bed, hand over Nasir’s mouth to hide his groan when Agron had to pull out. The second time had been early in, Agron's head buried between Nasir's legs when Malik had suddenly popped up by the head of their bed, eyes glowing and demanding to be let into the bed. Agron had to slide out, claiming he was looking for something, as Nasir had tried to regain his breath and carefully try to find his pants within the furs.

"You want some water or some juice?" Agron asks, strategically adjusting himself as he turns towards the small table in the corner. Malik pads over to him, leaning his head on Agron's thigh and nuzzles there.

"Juice, please."

Under the furs, Nasir takes a slow breath and recenters himself. His heart is pounding, chest a throbbing mess that he tries to wipe at with the edge of the blanket. He went shockingly soft already, but it takes him a minute to bring himself down, rubbing a hand over his face before he slowly sits up. From his vantage point, he can see that Malik is sitting on the table now, steadied by Agron's large hand, guzzling from a large silver goblet.

"Hey baby. What are you doing up?" Nasir asks softly, smiling when Malik's eyes instantly dart to him.

"You should be sleeping." Malik's brow furrows, mouth stained red from the cranberries.

"It's okay. I'm done now." Nasir slides off the couch, pulling the edges of his shirt together as much as he can. He can feel Agron's eyes on him, watching closely as Nasir moves forward to kiss the top of Malik's head. "You should be sleeping."

"After juice." Malik nods, easily agreeing.

"You can't be a strong and powerful prince if you don't get your sleep." Agron runs his fingers through Malik's curls, caressing over his temples as well. Malik purses his lips and wrinkles his nose at his father.

"I already am a prince." Agron grins when Malik flashes his teeth at him.

"A little prince," Agron soothes, "but you'll need all the sleep you can get if you want to grow big and strong like me and Uncle Duro."

"I will be-" Malik begins to grumble, cut off by Nasir's fingers ghosting down his back.

"Baby, drink your juice. It's time all of us were in bed." Nasir sooths, leaning in to kiss Malik's temple again.

"Yes Baba."

He lifts his goblet again, quickly draining it and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Malik is defiant to a point, but the hour is late and he was laid down some time ago. He's already starting to blink slow, drowsy as he leans sideways. Agron catches him easily, lifting Malik into his arms and curling him against his shoulder.

"I'll take him in." Agron murmurs, leaning in to allow Nasir to kiss Malik's cheek. They're nearly to the bedroom door when there is a knock on the front door, a servant leaning their head in. Her eyes are owlish, freezing when she takes in the room, Malik curled in Agron's arms.

"Sorry to disturb, highnesses, but a messenger has just arrived." The servant bows deeply, aware of the lateness of the hour. "They insisted."

"It's fine. I've got it." Nasir murmurs, patting Agron's arm. "Put him to bed."

Agron ducks into the room and Nasir goes to collect the letter. He knows he's not going to get anymore mending done, scooping up the cloth into a basket and righting the blanket before using the fruit knife nearby to open the seal. It's blue, a silver pair of eyes banded in the center. The handwriting is familiar, the slow loops and curls of calligraphy. Nasir's eyes scan over it once, twice, and then a third time before the paper flutters from his fingers and to the floor.

Across the room, a small painting of trees and a pack of wolves sits framed on the mantle and Nasir focuses on it as the world seems to tilt. He tries to steady himself, to gasp the breath into his lungs, but everything has stopped - a bitter freeze that renders him completely numb.

"Shall we try this again?"

Agron's voice is barely above a whisper, the growl hidden within the tone. He stops when he sees the look on Nasir's face, staring blankly at the wall before him, hand outstretched. His fingers are shaking when Agron reaches for him, cautious and slow.

"Nasir?" Agron stoops and reaches for Nasir's jaw, turning his face up towards him. His eyes are huge, pale as his bottom lip begins to tremble. There are no tears but the unfathomable expression of someone who has just been given terrible news. "What is it? What has happened?"

"My father has died." Voice soft, Nasir continues to stare at the wall. He feels as if his lungs have been cut in half, as if there is a vice squeezing and twisting inside of him.

"What?"

Agron only has to glance at the paper to recognize the seal of the High Seers, Lido's handwriting distinct. Their last letter from Mika and Jem had said they were traveling North for some time, but there had been no mention of Kallistos. Agron knows his health has been fading for years, but Nasir shies away from the subject whenever it is brought up. Agron did not feel the need to press considering his own past.

"Nasir," Agron reaches out, grips the back of his neck.

"He uh," Nasir licks his lips, curling his hands down by his sides. He clenches his nails into his palm, attempting to ground him. "He has been sick for some time."

"What can I do?" Agron asks, watching the way Nasir's eyes are tracking over the wall. He's not breathing, a shallow draw of his chest every few moments. Agron can see him starting internalize, shutting down and pushing it deeper, forcing himself to handle it.

"Nothing." Nasir looks ghostly when he turns his head, pale with huge, dark eyes. He's look at him but not really seeing, unblinking.

"We can go. We'll do whatever you want." Agron reassures, using his grip on Nasir to pull him close, press his lips to Nasir's cheek.

"Agron," Nasir whimpers, eyes still dry but he feels raw, stripped. He feels himself collapsing, ankles to knees to waist, falling forward into Agron's chest. He clings there, letting Agron's arms surround him, weigh him down, smother him as Agron buries kisses into Nasir's hair.

"We'll go to him," Agron whispers.

"No," Nasir shakes his head, fingers clinging to Agron's shoulders, drawing back. "We just got here. We have to run Galena. I'll go. I'll return in days. I'll find a wet nurse for Kieran and Naevia can help with Malik and Sepp and Pietros and I will-" Nasir spirals into quick words, breath sharpening again. He's cut off by Agron's gentle hands on his face.

"With me, remember?" Agron nods and leans in, kissing Nasir's trembling mouth. "We will go together."

Nasir doesn't have the words to thank Agron, caught in his throat and choking him. Instead, he presses his face into Agron's shoulder and hides there, lets the warmth and the familiar smell of Agron's skin wash over him, fade things out until there is nothing but blurs and silence.

 

\- - -

 

Lido twists his body, arms over his head, down to the floor and then easing the rest of his body over. The music is frantic, a frenzy of harps and cords, forcing his feet to follow a path he hasn't set. He twists in the air, leg above his head, body protesting. This must be done in secret, secluded away while Emmerich sits in meditation. Lido allows himself to fall into old, secret habits. He raises on his toes, spins until the ice around him blurs into vivid colors. There is a burning in his chest, a shattering of cold wind as he follows a complicated jump, lands perfect, curls towards the floor and then back up. It is not as smooth as he usually is, lost in the moment as he spins one last time, the toes of his shoes hiding how bloody he's making his feet.

"Why do you punish yourself?" Ariadne stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She's wearing deep maroon, the color of mourning. "You could not have saved him."

"I should have been able to." Lido mutters, collapsing back down, shoes clicking softly as he moves to the water in the corner. "I should have seen."

"My lord," Ariadne sighs, closing the door and stepping into the room. She follows him over, pressing a tentative hand to his bare shoulder. They are alone for a moment, but Ariadne knows Lido still follows the rules. Emmerich is very strict on the interactions that Lido is allowed to have. "There is nothing you could have done. Kallistos was old. He wanted to rejoin his wife."

"She would not have had him." Lido spits, bitter and cruel. A shimmer of blue and silver scales ghost over his shoulders, curl in his chest. "After what he has done. He was an evil man, selling his children for fucking gain. We are spread to the wind - Ashur dead. Kalmar kidnapped by fae for using his own power. Mika and Jem left to rule a house they do not want. Nasir - a gem that must protect everything he gains. No reprieve. No safety. While Kallistos prayed to Fatin and pretended what he did was just and kind."

"Lido," Ariadne gasps, shocked at the way he curls away from her. She hasn't seen him like this before, wracked with guilt and fragile at the ends. She has never been afraid of him, never trembled in shock at the sheer power coiled inside his chest. Yet what stands before her is not the quiet, gentle man from before. The Lido that talks softly and takes nothing. "This pain will pass."

"No, it won't." Lido shifts, turns towards her. There is frost on his eyelashes, devastatingly beautiful as he reaches for her. His hands are frozen when they touch the side of her neck. "I live with it every day. I have. I bare the weight of sins committed before I could comprehend."

Ariadne has nothing to say, rendered speechless as Lido stares at her. She hasn't been this close to him in a long time, glances stolen when she helps him with his visions, aids him in dressing for Emmerich's company, watches Lido curl in on himself. He could be more. She knows it. Has seen the power hindered by Emmerich's firm leash. She is forbidden to say what she feels, the emotion getting stuck in her throat. Poised like this, the sweat on Lido's temples turning to beads of frozen ice, eyes huge and yearning. She wishes for nothing more than to wrap him in her arms, shield him from this tragedy.

"Ariadne," Lido whispers, licking his lips. "You are more precious to me than anything else. You must know."

"It will be okay." Ariadne can barely breathe, mouth parted as Lido moves forward.

And then he's gone, drawing back and turning, his shoulders pulled up tight as he snatches his glass from the table. It is all done so quickly that Ariadne barely has time to register the change before the door is opening.

"Sire." Hecatea bows his head. "Lord Emmerich has requested you. Prince Darach and Prince Kalmar have been spotted coming out of the woods."

"I will be there soon." Lido nods quickly, motioning with his head, "Ariadne, will you assist me in changing?"

"Majesty." Ariadne nods, shocked at her own voice, rough and stripped.

Lido tucks his shoes into the fold of his arm and heads towards the door. Ariadne can do nothing but follow, feeling as if something pivotal has just shifted between them - that they are slowly drifting into the abyss.

\- - -

"You are lost in thought again." Darach's hand skirts across Kalmar's knee, pressing and squeezing to the leather. "Where do you go?"

"Dark places." Kalmar sighs, having to force himself to turn and look. "Apologies."

"You need not," Darach smiles, tilting his head. "I only wish to follow you."

Darach is devastatingly attractive in this light, the gold lining his amber eyes seeming to glow with the way the sun filters into the carriage. The walls are made of metal leaves covered in cloth so fine one riding inside can see out, but it is impenetrable to those on the other side. It casts beams of red, yellow, and green around the two small bench seats, Kalmar overwhelmed by the easy way Darach leans into the cushions, brilliant and shimmering.

"Beloved, I can feel your pain. Is there nothing I can do for you? Nothing to ease your suffering?" Darach sighs deeply, turning more in order to cup Kalmar's cheek. He is denied the action though as Kalmar pulls back, eyes darting around as if he expects a member of court to suddenly appear at window.

"Your majesty, you know we mustn't." Kalmar begins, cheeks flushing.

“Apologies.” Darach dips his head, hands curling in his lap. “I only wish to help you.”

When Kalmar was taken by Darach's father as prisoner for his crime, he was instructed to serve as Darach's personal bodyguard and servant as his punishment. There is no greater dishonor to the fae than being enslaved to another. Kalmar had taken it to heart though, had risen to his charge, and has barely ever being seen from Darach's side, a shadow standing nearly eight inches shorter than the high prince but armed with a deadly short staff and twin blades strapped to each hip.

Darach does not understand then why he refuses to admit then what has been growing between them. The prince is careful to keep boundaries, but he cannot deny the festering, burning within his chest every time Kalmar is near. They share the same rooms, Kalmar's bed stationed by the door of Darach's master suite, always within eyesight. Quiet nights spent in his suite, Kalmar reading to him, crafting him small bracelets of flowers or crowns of ivy. Darach's people - the fae - cannot lie, and the warmth that spreads through him at Kalmar's mere presence isn't fantasy either.

"I have already made it clear that you are my intended." Darach frowns, respectfully curling his hands in his lap. "All of court knows my intentions."

"I am below your station!" Kalmar hisses, being careful to keep his voice low enough that the others surrounding the carriage cannot hear. "I am undeserving of your attentions."

"You are the only one who has them!" Darach whispers back, matching Kalmar's harsh tone. "You are a royal prince of the Pythonissan."

"I am your servant." Kalmar turns away then, can't stand the sight of Darach's pained expression. “In servitude to the royal family until the end of time for my crimes. It has been written in stone.”

“Stones weather with time. Kalmar, nothing is law forever. My father sleeps in a cocoon off magic. He may never wake. I am a king apparent.” Darach’s voice is soft, leaning in close enough to murmur without touching Kalmar. “I want you to be my consort. There is no one else.”

How many times must Kalmar lie to himself about this? Every moment that Darach is near it is a torture unlike anything else. Kalmar knows, deep below his farce of duty and service, that he wants to give in. He wants to feel the brush of Darach's fingers on his face, his hair, to allow Kalmar's heart to finally unclench and let out what lies within. He can't though, so confined to a life of service and bowing on knee.

They fall into silence then, guilty and harsh, as the carriage continues its way upwards. Although Darach is technically correct, Kalmar has no true claim to the Pythonissam leadership now. He does not want to return to his people. Mika and Jem deserve that mantle, they have trained and led under Kallistos for nearly their whole lives. Lido would never consider leaving his ice castle and Nasir is unable to - set as high consort among wolves. Kalmar knows neither will ever leave their husbands. Still, Kalmar cannot always tamper down the ache that has settled in his chest, the desire to be close to Darach, to sink into the frenzy that seems to occur every time he is close.

"I don't care." Darach suddenly turns, eyes blazing as he leans in. "I have a cousin, somewhere, that can take the crown. I'll sign over the kingdom to him. I'll take the role of basic peasant if it means-"

“Stop! Don’t speak such things.” Kalmar shakes his head. He can feel his face heating, the flush spreading to his neck. 

Kalmar won't hear of it. Would never ask Darach for that. He couldn't. He thinks about Lido in his ice tower, married to a king he doesn't love, forced to live a life in secrecy in lies. Then of Nasir, who rose above it all. Kalmar has seen them together, the easy way that Agron and Nasir love each other, regardless of who they are or what they are. Kalmar doesn't want to waste his life, doesn't want to become his father - bitter and selfish.

He will not play this game any longer. Kallistos is dead and with him, the contract binding Kalmar to this transaction, to this life of service. He is his own man with his own life and he chooses to live it.

“If you do not feel the same or _can’t_ feel the same, then I would ask you to tell me. Because this heat that grows inside of my chest everytime you are near is suffocating. I can’t-” Darach begins, soft and careful. He’s twisted the edge of his cloak into a mess of wrinkles.

"Kiss me." Kalmar interrupts, turning in his seat to fully face Darach.

The prince doesn't hesitate, leaning in with desperate hands in Kalmar's hair. The kiss is passionate, the quick melding of lips and tongues. Kalmar's heart feels like it's twisting out of his chest, arms around Darach's chest, fingers on his back. He's smothered with the other man's weight, pushing him back into the cushioned seat, Darach overwhelming him. They devour each other this way until the carriage hits a patch of rough ground, swaying sharply.

When Darach collapses back into his seat, his mouth is bruised and eyes wide. Kalmar isn't better off, face flushed and clothes askew. He straightens his tunic, hands ghosting down his hair to straighten the braids and curls. There is a ghost of a smile on his face though, a hidden little gem. This is not the first time they have kissed, but it is the first time that Kalmar has asked for it.

"I don't want to live a miserable life." Kalmar is still gasping for breath, but he meets Darach's eye all the same, "And I don't want you to give up your crown."

"I promise I won't." Darach grins, dragging his thumb along his bottom lip.

Kalmar drops his gaze, fiddling with the small clasps that run the length of his tunic. He can feel his face still burning, embarrassed with how fast his heart is racing. 

"Kalmar," Darach reaches over, gently lifts his chin, "you know I cannot lie to you. You're all I've ever wanted."

"It is not fitting of my station," Kalmar laps over his lip, hands drifting to Darach’s chest, "but I want you too."

“Then why are we denying ourselves?” Darach asks, fingers slow along Kalmar’s jaw. 

The tension between them is nearly suffocating, hyper aware of how their knees are pressed together, the silent confines of the carriage. Kalmar doesn't resist this time, curling to the side, reaching up for Darach. The kiss is slower, deeper as Kalmar presses against him, explores the soft folds of Darach's lips, his tongue pressing warm and insistent. It's better this time, feels like they're being cored as both men press against one another.

"Highness." A sharp knock sounds against the carriage door. "We are nearly to the castle."

Against him, Kalmar's eyes have gone wide as Darach leans back, breath ragged as he licks over his lips. They've slipped down so Kalmar is nearly below him, spread out over the plush cushion.

"Alright, we will prepare." Darach pushes himself up, giving Kalmar enough space to do so as well. They take a moment, smoothing hair and clothes again, Darach straightening his crown. When they have righted themselves, Darach reaches over and slips his fingers into Kalmar's, squeezing gently.

"You may not believe me now, but I do not care what my father has said to you. You are a prince, powerful and beautiful," Darach smiles, "and I am the one that is unworthy to stand beside you."

Kalmar has no words, nothing to respond to make Darach see how wrong he is. Instead, he squeezes Darach's fingers and slips back into silence, watching as the castle grows larger and larger.

 

\- - -

 

Emmerich's large arm circles around Lido's waist, pulling him near as they stop at the stairs into the Main Hall. It's where they will gather to discuss the funeral arrangements, the air quiet and soft, even as incense of mur and cedar fill the icy room. The chandelier above them has been fashioned to glow with heavenly light, tinting the whole room in a soft blue glow, shimmering off the crystal and ice. At the far end, the stones melt away to the garden outside, a stone maze of snow and ice, the sky a blanket of white.

Lido has taken care to dress appropriately, wrapped in thin gaussemer of maroon and crimson, hair left loose and wavy. He's been anointed with silver paint, a soft line brushed over the top of his cheek and bridge of his nose. There is another line down his chest, disappearing behind the transparent cut of his pants. It is the proper way for a High Seer's consort to appear, even with every step Lido feels as if his heart is breaking. Emmerich is unrelenting with him though, demands he concern himself more with how the Maerif conduct themselves. So much of Lido has been covered up, has been changed, he can't even look at his brothers, ashamed to think he once called himself a Pythonissan.

They stare up at him, reverent and falling into silence as the royal couple enters. Mika and Jem stand within the main royal hall surrounded by a dozen of their oldest and highest members. Kalmar and Darach and their servants and companions gather together to the right. It should be a joyous occasion, and instead, it feels as if the room has been sucked of air.

"I know your heart is heavy, little dove, but we must remain strong." Emmerich presses a gentle kiss to Lido's cheek, "I need you to remember your place, remember your people. Your brothers being here is a privilege, but one I will be forced to remove if they present a problem."

"I know." Lido ducks his head, ignores the way Kalmar's eyes snap towards him, mouth twisting in distaste. He has not been quiet about his displeasure in this marriage. "I am still loyal to you. I know my place."

Emmerich eases his fingers through Lido's hair, touching the soft curls. The seers way is very strict in rules about consorts, protecting them from others but also from themselves. Emmerich had some issues with it when Lido had first been brought here, but now he has seemed to fall into easy obedience. Lido knows no one is allowed to touch except for Emmerich, painted in a way that it will show if anyone thought to try. Emmerich has no fear of that though. Lido is his and no one else's.

"You have been very good for me," Emmerich presses a kiss to Lido's cheek, being careful to avoid the paint. "Will you retire with me tonight? Let me ease your pain?"

"Shall we descend?" Lido asks instead, turning his head to smile at Emmerich. If it's a little forced, a little pained, the high oracle doesn't notice.

"Of course."

Lido is careful to not start walking until Emmerich has, following down the steps and keeping his head held high. He can feel Kalmar's dark eyes on him, the coil of furious magic. He won't turn and look though, ignores the twins both sliding together in the corner of his eye, wrapped in black and gold and red. He wants to scream at them, to make them see that this isn't his fault. He did not choose this gift. He did not choose Emmerich. But Lido knows that they already know that. They know and there is nothing they can do about it.

"My dear friends, welcome." Emmerich greets, guiding them both upon the royal dias. The front of the Main Hall opens to the snowy garden before them, the stone statues of other fallen high seers looking like ghosts with the way the ice clings to their elongated faces, their billowing cloaks forever covered in snow.

Jem and Mika sit to the left, the Pythonissan group looking jarring and bright compared to the soft pastels and silvers of the court. It's very clear that they don't belong, only a dozen or so of them make up the small group, but they're decadent and exquisite in a way that seems overly abundant in the frosty room. Snakes and gold adorn most of their clothing, showing skin even in the icy air, constantly touching one another. They huddle around the twins too, the chimes of their clothing seeming to haunt the space around them.

Across the courtyard, Kalmar and Darach sit next to each other, their high court lingering behind, a wall of leaves and floral looking like an oasis against the snow. The fae are calculated in their movements, frozen until one moves and the rest follow the motion, shifting only slightly when Darach settles against his stone seat. Though Kalmar isn't wearing a crown, he looks regal and poised, scowling up at his older brother.

"Now that everyone is assembled, we must begin the heavy discussion of how to proceed with passing of King Kallistos, leader of the Pythonissan tribe." Emmerich settles into his chair, reaching over to take Lido's hand. "We have taken-"

"Apologies, High Seer." Mika cuts Emmerich's speech off, shaking his head. Beside him, Jem's matching eyes dart over as well, finishing his twin's statement. "We cannot make any decisions until all of us have arrived."

Emmerich's mouth twists in distaste, rolling his shoulders back. He does not like the way the Pythonissan seem to disregard any sense of structure, of rules of this land. They are loud in their magic and music, provocative in their dress with bare skin and sheer clothing. He cannot imagine Lido coming from them. Lido who is quiet, reserved, dressing only to appease Emmerich and his desires.

"We have sent messages to Nasir and Pietros," Jem interjects, not looking at Emmerich but instead across to Lido. "They will come."

"We do not know that." Lido shakes his head, voice soft. He is careful not to react to the way Emmerich is crushing his hand. "He has a new son. The Alptraum are due to migrate and-"

"Kallistos has been passed for nearly a week now. Our power here can only keep him so long." Emmerich raises his hand, cutting the conversation. Lido instantly drops his head, silenced by his sharp voice. "I understand your desire to have all of you here, but if your youngest brother will not attend, or if his husband does not allow it, we must move forward."

"We make no decision until all of us are here." Jem snarls, moving forward on his chair as if he means to stand, "He was our father."

"And this is my court." Emmerich answers easily with a wave of his fingers.

"Lido-" Mika pleads, staring imploringly at his older brother. "You can't be fucking serious."

Flinching, Lido looks to the side, focusing on the crust of ice over one of the windows. He will not speak against his husband, even if his throat is burning to. He knows that there is no way Agron would forbid Nasir and Pietros from coming. Agron would probably be the first to push them forward. 

Lido thinks bitterly of the last time he saw them, right after Sepp's nearly murderous birth. Nasir had been hysterical, bleeding black venom from his nose, writhing on the floor. The vampire serum in Sepp's body, absorbed from Caesar's vicious attack, had nearly sank Nasir back into the darkness. The heat lightening storm booming outside the tent had been a deafening,the ground shaking as Nasir had writhed on the dirt floor, refusing any comfort expect for Agron’s hands on him, pinning him down when the pain had nearly arched him in half. Crouched in that dark tent, Agron had clamped his hand on Lido's shoulder - eyes glowing bright enough it appeared as if they were liquid fire.

"Take what you need. Whatever it is." Agron had growled through a mouth full of teeth. "Don't let him die."

When Sepp had finally let out his first cry, Lido had been shocked not by the baby but in the thick arms that had suddenly wrapped around him, Agron's tears a barely there brush before he turned to his husband. It was a brand that Lido cannot erase from his mind, the jealousy that curls tight in his chest - not because of who Nasir calls his own, but what he has. Of the freedom that love that strong gives him.

The room falls into awkward pause at Lido's weakness, the snowy wind billowing along the stone floor, sweeping over them. It's cruel and wicked, unconcerned with those in the room who shiver away from the blast. With it, a soft noise begins to grow, a shadow /that seems to strengthen. It would be lost if not for the way the faes seem to rustle, craning their heads in unison to hear. Kalmar seems to catch it first, bowed head whipping up, turning to the open edge of the garden.

"He is here." Kalmar drawls, rolling his eyes. "Dramatic, as always."

The first howl goes up like a siren, echoing loud and robust along the mountain tops. It's followed by another and then another, a pack drawing closer as suddenly a dozen wolves burst over the opening of the garden. Their fur is streaked in blacks and gray, mouths snarling and panting as they rush into the great hall, kicking up swirls of snow. Emmerich gives a shout, standing sharply, only to find himself frozen as the beasts do not charge forward, but instead fall into two lines, rustling with heads tilted up. Their unison howl is booming in the room, matching golden collars solidifying whom they belong to.

Next comes the guards and dancers, four drummers beating a steady thrum just behind. They are wrapped in crimson and royal blue, the leather of their armor littered in studs and sharp metal pieces stamped to look like wolves. The guards in front hold long golden poles topped with the Alptraum banner - a great gray wolf, it's front paw wrapped in a snake with three glittering stars crested below it, a full moon above. They follow the path of the wolves, sliding away from each other to bracket the walkway.

Only the brothers recognize the next group, Pietros walking just before the other three men. He's been wrapped in a scarlet cloak, a thin circlet of gold around his temples. It matches both Auctus' and Barca's, Duro's a thicker twining of antlers and stones - showing his higher status as Agron's brother. When they are close enough, Pietros manages to turn his head slightly, winking at the twins as they take formation as well, the last piece before the high royalty moves into view.

They're wearing matching cloaks, soft white and gray wolf fur pushed back against their shoulders and held in place by a carefully knotted leather and gold. Nasir is decadently Pythonissan, wrapped in thin scarlet fabric that hugs against him, hinting at the bare skin just under, a collection of necklaces heavy down his front. It isn't without it's Alptra adornments though, the leather straps crossing over his chest a softer mirror to Agron's own interwoven armor, buckled together and complicated. It would be a fierce statement of power, and it is, only softened slightly by whom else is with them.

A blanket of silver is wiggling in one of Agron's huge arms, the babe tucked close to his chest. Kieran is still too young to go uncovered, tiny in the way he fits the length of Agron's bicep. Peering out from under the edge of Nasir's cloak, a mass of dark curls and dark eyes, Duro's easy grin evident on his face, Sepp looks the most at ease. He's clutching a stuffed shield in his hand, holding it against his chest. Between the two men, his hands held in each of his father's, Malik glares at the court. He looks so similar to Agron's own passive gaze it's jarring, his crown holding his wild curls back from his forehead, only craning his head up when they stop. Nasir is the one to glance down at him, nodding his head slightly and Malik seems reassured.

"Announcing." A banner guard booms from their line up, stepping forward. "The High King Agron and High Consort Nasir. Accompanied by the Royal Heir Apparent, High Prince Malik, Prince Sepp, and Prince Kieran."

"Welcome Wolf King." Emmerich has recovered enough to look gracious, guiding Lido into standing with a firm hand on his arm.

"High Seer." Agron tips his head slightly, directing his gaze to Lido more than his husband. It is clear he has no interest in showing any hospitality to the ancient man. 

"You are so kind to accommodate us in this trying time." Nasir echos, shifting Sepp on his hip. It jolts Malik a little, who steps a little forward, glancing at Agron carefully before turning his attention back to the couple at the front.

"Thank you for your hospitality." Malik's voice is soft, innocent, and high. He doesn't look like a toddler though, holding himself straight and regal, his cloak clasped at each shoulder with a small wolf pin. Agron releases his hand to gently stroke a hand through Malik's dark curls and Malik preens at the attention.

"We are very happy to see you." Lido smiles slightly, gently pressing a hand to Emmerich's chest, "Perhaps, majesty, would so allow our guests to retire and resume conversation over evening meal? I imagine journey was long and laborious."

Emmerich smiles tight lipped, eyes sweeping over the room before landing once more on his husband. There is a flash of something dangerous in his expression, a hint of something more rippling through his shoulders. He reaches over and gently cups Lido's cheek, fingers denting in where his hairline starts. It feels like a brand and Lido instantly drops his gaze, bowing his head.

"My soft hearted husband," Emmerich echos through the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kalmar stand, hand on his hip. Darach stands too, reaching for Kalmar's shoulder. "Let us retire and allow our guests to settle and rejoin later for dinner and the completion of plans."

He turns with a swirl of his long cloak, the glowing light around them shattering over the fabric, appearing first silver and then blue and then purple. When the door shuts behind him, an air of relief sweeps through the hall, everyone sagging.

"Thank fuck you showed up when you did. I thought this was going to be boring," Kalmar drawls, turning his head to grin at Nasir. He twirls a hand lazily in the air and flowers suddenly bloom down from the chandelier hanging over them.

It breaks the spell, Nasir visibly relaxing, hoisting Sepp higher on his hip. "As if anything is boring when all of us are together."

They come together in the middle of the hall, hugs and kisses on cheeks around. Mika and Jem steal Sepp away, delighting the toddler with swirls of light and petting over his smooth cheeks. Kieran gets passed to Kalmar, who coos at the babe, showing him to Darach in awe and admiration. Kieran doesn't seem to mind it, and instead reaches for one of Kalmar's long braids, eyes wide and calculating. Malik refuses to leave Agron's side, clinging to his cloak and tugging before Agron scoops him up, keeping him high so Malik can hide his face in Agron's neck. He usually isn't one for shyness, but the trip had been long and it is suddenly overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people.

Lido is more reserved, approaching slowly and cupping Nasir's cheeks. He presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, a ghost of a smile drifting across his face. He looks thinner than when they last saw him, a shadow passing over his cheeks behind all the paint.

"It is good to see you, little brother." Lido glances up at Agron, fingers brushing over the skin between two straps on Agron's shoulder. "And you."

"Lido," Nasir begins, voice soft. He stares up at his brother, suddenly getting the overwhelming urge to cry. He's tried to keep himself calm, distancing himself from the pain of this loss, but it rushes to the surface under Lido's dark gaze. It's the knowledge of Kallistos' passing, of Lido's torture, of the way Nasir stands helpless in the wake of all of it. How can so much have happened in five years and yet Nasir feels as if a new fight is brewing, as if they will always be hinging on fear and despair?

"Don't." Lido's mouth twists, seeming to realize where Nasir's mind has gone.

"He's just one man. There are ways. Please, let us help-" Nasir begins, freezing when Lido turns to look at Agron, eyes sweeping back to Nasir.

"Just one man?" Lido takes a step back, putting enough distance between them that it's noticeable and feels more like a retreat than a stand. "Do not speak to me of such."

"That is different." Nasir replies, brow furrowing. He can feel Agron shift beside him, confused but sensing the change in the air, the static electricity of Nasir's magic. "It was different."

"Payment is payment. Do not judge me for following in your footsteps." Lido sneers and for a fleeting moment, it is not Nasir's brother that stands before him. Lido looks tragically like Ashur, down to the cruel tilt of his top lip, and then it is gone, washed clean by the remembrance of where they are and who surrounds them.

"You have lived among the mountains too long," Nasir snaps in Pythonissan, his bicep clasped in Agron's palm when he tries to step forward. "Your heart has become ice."

"Come, brothers, let the Alptraum retire and regain strength. We will see them at evening meal." Lido turns shortly on his heel, sliding through the door that Emmerich had just gone, followed closely by his entourage.

\- - -

The room they've been placed in feels much like the one in the castle of Galena, a huge parlor filled with couches and a roaring fire, attached by two long halls - one for the royal family and one for their servants. It's decorated simply, the walls a clear crystal that reflects rainbow when the light hits it, everything wrapped in white and silver fabric. The family within seems like a dark smudge in all the light, wrapped in multicolored fur and leather.

Nasir lingers within the doorway of the master bedroom, Kieran clasped to his chest and suckling greedily. He has no patience when he's hungry, demanding to be fed with dark eyes and grabby hands. There is no denying, and Nasir wouldn't, a small part of him loving Kieran just for his simplicity - for his easy birth, his easy nature. Nasir has half stripped down, letting the leather and fabric pool on the bed behind him, pants low on his hips. He's too fucking tired to worry about it now, the sting of Lido's barb still twisting in his stomach.

He knows Lido doesn't know what he's saying, blinded by his husband's rule. He has never had the option to be anything but Emmerich's. He can't compare Agron and the high seer. They are on completely different ends of the spectrum. Nasir has never had to drop his gaze the way Lido has, never has been forced to _serve_ when he wants to speak.

At the table in the corner, Agron sits between Malik and Sepp, a huge plate spread before him with two on either side. Malik has learned fairly quickly to feed himself, efficient even with open goblets and cups. Sepp is still in need of some direction. He gets caught up easily, so Agron has to gently keep him on task instead of playing.

"Daddy," Malik starts conversationally, stabbing his fisted fork into a small piece of meat. He's clearly avoiding the vegetables taking up a third of his plate.

"Yes?" Agron raises a brow at his son, reaching over with a napkin to wipe a line of sauce off Sepp's cheek.

"Why is Baba so sad?" Malik chews with his mouth open, head tilted back. He can't see Nasir from where he is, half hidden in shadow, cradling Kieran against him.

"What makes you think he's sad?" Agron asks, tapping Malik's chin to remind him to close his mouth. It can get confusing for them both which manners matter in human form and which fall to the wayside when they're in wolf.

"Didn’t sing to us," Sepp chimes in, resting his elbows on the table. "Baba always sings."

"And I saw him crying," Malik mumbles, tapping his fork on his plate, "but when I tried to cheer him up, he just wanted to hug me."

"Did we do bad?" Sepp asks, peeking out from behind his fringe of curls.

"No!" Agron shakes his head, no hesitation. He can see the twin guilty expressions on his sons' faces. Malik staring at Agron while Sepp stares at his plate. "No little man. This has nothing to do with you."

"He's never been this sad before. What if he never gets happy again?" Malik mumbles, pointedly setting his fork down. He folds his hands in his lap, waiting for Agron to reassure him, to make it better.

Agron takes a moment, slowly inhaling and reaching out to gently ruffle both of his sons' hair. Sepp seems soothed by the motion but Malik's molten eyes track over his father, wanting to understand. It makes sense. Malik is Nasir's shadow, demanding to be with him as much as possible. His favorite spot is directly between Agron and Nasir.

"Sometimes," Agron starts, picking his words carefully, "really bad things happen to really good people and it makes them sad. It's not anyone's fault. Your Baba just needs time to heal."

"What happened? Why can't you make it better?" Malik's eyes narrow. "Baba always says you're the best warrior in the whole world. You can fight any monster."

"Yeah!" Sepp grins, tapping the end of his spoon on the table. "You aren't afraid of anything."

Agron grins a little, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, I can't do that this time. We just need to be super kind and patient with your Baba, okay? You boys need to be extra good for him and if he wants to hug you, then hug him. It will be okay."

"Okay Daddy."

Malik and Sepp turn back to their food, picking at it for a while. Agron ends up forcing more fruit on Malik's plate with a warning look, refusing to let him only fill up on meat. Sepp will eat whatever if put before him, and happily chews while swinging his feet.

"Daddy?" Malik asks eventually, leaning his head back against his chair. "Does the bad thing have to do with why we're here?"

"What do you mean?" Agron asks, scooting back to start clearing their plates.

"Uncle Lido said something that made Baba upset. Downstairs." Malik speaks slow, not really understanding. "I felt the air change."

It's the feeling of static electricity that fills the room whenever Nasir's magic surges forward, a rush of emotion that makes him want to act. Agron doesn't know how to explain to toddlers what exactly is going on, the topic too heavy to explain. Malik and Sepp have only been privy to healthy relationships - surrounded by Agron and Nasir, Spartacus and Mira, even Duro, Barca, Auctus, and Pietros. They have no concept of slavery, of owning another person.

"Alright my little wolf cubs. Baths and then beds." Nasir gratefully takes the opportunity to step into the room, grinning when both boys seem to light up. "Diona has already started the water."

"Okay Baba!" Sepp cries, eyeing Agron for confirmation that he's excused from the table before climbing down from his chair. He isn't very fond of baths, but if Baba wants him to go, he will.

"Say goodnight to your brother. He's going to go to sleep." Nasir squats down, turning a bleary eyed and yawning Kieran. The toddlers crowd close, bumping shoulders and grinning. They have to be reminded sometimes to be gentle, but for the most part, both boys are too in awe of the baby to do anything but be sweet. Sepp coos at him, running his fingers over Kieran's dark hair, leaning in to kiss his cheek and whisper to him goodnight. Malik waits his turn, leaning in and nuzzling against Kieran's throat when his brother moves out of the way. He goes further though, leaning in to kiss Nasir's jaw, raising up on his toes to reach him.

"I love you Baba." Malik murmurs in Pythonissan, resting his small palm against Nasir's neck before turning away.

"I love you too, baby boy."

Nasir watches him retreat, slowly standing. The empathy in Malik is astounding. Already he is showing signs of his power, growing fast and training faster. He already can drop into form with a sword in his hand, growl almost a mirror of Agron's own. It's the other side of him that surprises Nasir though, the kind heart, the gentle boy who is expected to be a stone warrior. Nasir is left marveling over his children every day.

"How is my little _Wolfjungen_?" Agron sings at Kieran, taking the babe into his arms. Kieran eyes him with some interest, raising a curled fist towards his own mouth. Agron is quick but gentle to push his hand away, not allowing for Kieran to try and suckle on his thumb. It is a habit they want to break early.

"Fed and warm," Nasir answers, lingering by the table and crossing his arms over his chest, "which is more than I can say of us."

"We don't have to go downstairs," Agron tries for soothing, glancing up at Nasir. It's ridiculous how sometimes Agron still loses his breath when he looks at him, lungs compressed and a thick catch in his throat. It's been almost five years and Agron gets this giddy turning of his stomach every time Nasir lingers before him.

"Mika and Jem would come find us." Nasir sighs miserably, tilting his head towards the ceiling.

With Kieran asleep in his arm, Agron uses his free hand to cup Nasir's jaw, tilting his face towards him. The kiss starts gentle, a dry press of lips against lips, of Nasir sighing in a different way against Agron's cheek. Something shifts though, Nasir turning his hips in, Agron's fingers sliding back into Nasir's hair. The wet drag of Nasir's tongue on Agron's goes straight to his stomach, suddenly flamed and twitching. Agron is limited with how much he can move, Kieran still clutched against him, but Nasir doesn't seem to mind, thighs trapping one of Agron's, grinding against him.

"Nasir," Agron gasps, pulling back enough to breath. "The boys-"

"I know." Nasir answers, arms circling around Agron's waist, tugging them together. He lingers on the edge of grinding and a hug, pressing his face against Agron's chest.

"Later. I promise." Agron won't ever deny him this.

" _I know._ " Nasir repeats, trying his hardest to hide inside of Agron's arms. His chest feels so tight, so exhausted from the overwhelming emotion constantly slamming into him. He wants to feel good, wants to forget, wants Agron to hold him down and erase the pain of having to be here. He wants to go back to two weeks ago when Nasir had been happy, traveling through Alptra without the weight of death and despair lingering always in the forefront of his mind.

They stay there until the bathroom door opens down the hall, Agron goes to put Kieran down while Nasir helps Malik and Sepp into their pajamas. They're sharing a room, two beds placed on either side, but Malik and Sepp end up crawling into one. Nasir doesn't discourage it, knowing that a new place and new surroundings are jarring to the boys. He tucks them in with furs and blankets, nuzzling their stuffed swords against their chests, kissing both of the boys' foreheads.

"Goodnight," Sepp mumbles sleepily, fingers hooked in Malik's sleep shirt. "Love you."

"I love you too, baby." Nasir smiles, brushing Sepp's hair from his face to drop a series of kisses on his forehead.

"Baba?" Malik whispers, more awake as he stares up at his father.

"Yes? Do you want me to sing to you?" Nasir asks, crouching down by Malik's side of the bed.

"No. It's okay." Malik smiles, small and careful, before holding out his stuffed sword towards Nasir. "I want you to have this."

"Your sword? But how will you fight all your glorious battles in your dreams?" Nasir asks, moving up to sit on the edge of the bed, moving his fingertips through the fur over Malik's chest. It soothes the boy underneath who arches into the caress.

"You're sad though." Malik finally gets out, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "And you said whenever I get sad that I should squeeze my sword extra hard and the bad feelings go away."

Chest aching, Nasir leans forward to tuck Malik's stuffed toy against his chest, kissing both his cheeks and then his forehead. This time, the ache in his stomach is something else. He lingers against Malik for a moment, brushing his bangs back from his forehead, marveling at how much Malik looks like Agron, how magnificent he is even at barely four years old.

"I am sad. But it won't last forever." Nasir reassures. "I want you to make sure you have no bad feelings, okay? No monsters?"

"But what's your sword?" Malik asks, brow furrowing. "What if you wake up scared? Or if you have a bad dream? What helps you?"

"I do." Agron answers from the doorway, stepping into the room. "That's why we share a bed. When your Baba gets scared or lonely, he can hug me."

"Does that work?" Sepp mumbles sleepily, rolling on his side.

"Of course it works! Do you want to try?" Agron grins with dimples, climbing around Nasir to gather both boys up in a hug. He doesn't press his full weight on them, just enough to pin them to the bed so they can't escape when Agron playfully pretends to eat them up. It's a game they've played since their birth and Malik and Sepp end up nearly in tears from laughter, their giggles high and rambunctious in the seeming silent castle.

"Okay okay. Little cubs need lots of sleep if they plan on growing up to be big and strong." Nasir swats at Agron's flank, standing from the bed. The king follows, tucking both the boys back in and dropping quick kisses on the tops of their heads.

"Goodnight little princes." Nasir calls, watching as Malik's eyes begin to droop, Sepp already there.

"Goodnight Daddy. Goodnight Baba." Their responses are quiet, dreamy mumbles.

\- - -

 

Pulling his hair to the side, Nasir carefully pulls a comb through it - softening some of the curl and being wary of the thin braids and jewels woven into the strands. It's an over indulgent adornment, something Nasir wouldn't bother with at home, but they are not within the walls of Galena now. Instead, Nasir must remember his place, rewire himself to play the game of royals that suffocates him.

If he had his way, Nasir would take it all off, unwind the necklaces from around his throat, drop the jewels on the side table, peel the thin and glimmering fabric from off of him. He would collapse back in his bed in Galena, the one covered in thick, gray and white fur blankets, their soft strands brushing all over his bare skin. He would fall asleep forever that way, never having to leave or wake again.

There is no reason for him to feel this way. When Gerulf had died, Nasir had only felt relief - a monster finally ruined by his own creation. Nasir had spent many a night pressing kisses into Agron's hands, silently thanking him for their freedom. Nasir had been too overcome with rage, with the sickening knowledge of fresh death and horror to truly feel Caesar's life leave him. He had rejoiced though, curled deep inside his own body, happy to finally be removed from the nightmare.

Kallistos' passing has pulled something deep and snarling from within him. Nasir has not yet cried, not truly, kept at bay by the constant motion of having to get to Lido's palace, in dealing with the daily motions of royal life, finding solace in the needs of his children. Now though, thoughts consume him, threatening to drip down from the mantle Nasir has shoved them to avoid them.

"Kieran is still asleep. We should go down- Oh!"

Agron's shoulders hit the door with a loud thump, the buckles of his armor clacking on the crystal. Nasir ignores it, trailing his mouth down his chest, licking at skin where he can, tasting familiar sweat and the bite of leather. It only takes a moment for Agron to realize where this is going, hands hovering useless around Nasir's face, unsure if he should touch or not. He seems to give in, fingers curling in Nasir's hair, pulling him back a little as Nasir's knees hit the floor.

"My love, what is this? They are expecting us." Agron is having a hard time making a sound argument when his cock presses that way against the tight leather of his pants. "Fuck."

Nasir is glowing on the floor, a thousand flecks of glitter making up his outfit, the sheer paneling in it barely covering his skin. It's decadent, the whole night sky bowing at Agron's feet. He feels feverish from it, crown a thick weight around his temples as he stares down at Nasir. He is ethereal, higher than Agron has ever thought possible.

"I want to feel better," Nasir mumbles, fingers nimble on the cording, tugging on it until he can get Agron's cock out. "Make me feel better."

"Nasir-" Agron watches his husband drag his tongue over the bumpy veins on Agron's hips, eyes dark and gleaming. He bites hard on the smooth curve of Agron's bone and sucks, a purple bruise forming in its wake.

"Do you want to talk about - oh fuck!" Agron's head hits the door with a solid clunk, his crown scratching on the crystal as Nasir takes him down to the hilt.

Nasir does not wait, expert and efficient at taking Agron apart. He swallows around him, tonguing up Agron's shaft, lapping over his crown before sucking again. Down here like this, surrounded by heat and the scent of him, Nasir can lose himself. It's familiar and warm, the bitter taste of salt on his tongue, suckling as Agron's fingers curl tighter in his hair, not pulling but holding him there. Nasir doesn't ever want to leave.

Agron can't breathe, the flickers of flames burning over the tops of his thighs, floral scent clinging against the frosty air. It's never not overwhelming with Nasir, magic and power crackling around them. Agron can't draw in one breath between the next, moaning when Nasir's throat vibrates as he hums.

"Nasir. Nasir. Nasir." Agron pants, drunk on the feeling of it, on the dizzying frenzy that is this pleasure. He says it like a prayer, like a holy mantra, already too close to the edge.

_Come for me, my king. Only for me._

Nasir's dark eyes seem to almost glow, staring up at Agron in a way that he can't deny the request. He comes with little preamble, first the intoxicating heat of pleasure and then the crash, overwhelming and hard, stomach clenching.

Drinking him down, Nasir doesn't pull back until Agron starts going soft, lapping slowly over bruised and red lips. He doesn't reach for himself, flushed down his neck and his chest. He laps at his bottom lip, hands curling in his lap.

"Fuck," Agron gasps, crumpling against the door. He stares over at Nasir, fingers dragging on his cheek, grinning in a manic way as Nasir reaches over to take his thumb into his mouth. "Fuck!"

Nasir sucks on it, eyes dark and staring as his tongue slowly traces the ridges of Agron's knuckles. He lets his hand fall down to where Agron is twitching, wrapping his hand around the tip of Agron's cock, twisting just enough to have Agron's eyes roll, hissing sharply.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me." Agron grips Nasir's face, slipping his wet thumb over Nasir's lip before kissing him. He pulls back shortly after, not allowing himself to fall into the frenzy again. He wishes they had more time, space to linger here and get lost, but they are already late for dinner and though Agron does not understand the fight downstairs, he knows Lido won't be pleased if they are late again.

"Kiss me," Nasir mumbles, leaning into Agron, nuzzling against his jaw. He's careful not to press his body too roughly against Agron's, hard and thrumming but wanting the touch more than the pleasure. "I love you so much, please."

Agron does not try and resist after such a desperate plea, kissing Nasir's forehead before pressing their mouths once more together. The kiss this time is slow and careful, Agron's tongue curling around Nasir's, rubbing and tasting in a way that has the small man panting. Nasir twists his fingers in the short hair at the base of Agron's head and leans up on his knees, molding himself against Agron's body.

"Tell me what I can do, Nasir," Agron draws back to gasp in a breath, pressing his cheek against Nasir's, "I cannot take this pain from you unless you tell me how."

"Do not leave my side." Nasir leans back, hands still cupping Agron's neck. There are hot tears in his eyes but he does not shed them, staring at Agron instead. "You are my strength. Help me get through this."

"I am here. I will always be here." Agron presses a gentle kiss to Nasir's mouth and then a few to his forehead and temple. He holds him until Nasir stops trembling, and then doesn't release him until the servant comes to find why they haven't come down.

\- - -

 

The servant that leads them into the dining hall refuses to talk to them, keeping his expression neutral and eyes forward. He's wearing a robe of light pink, the luminosity of the fabric thin enough that it plays light along his bare skin, offering no coverage. It is an illusion of modesty, of warmth while crystals and ice twist into the halls and caverns of the Maerif's kingdom.

Agron thinks nothing of it, entwining his fingers with Nasir's and leading him forward. He is not so removed that he doesn't notice the subtle shift in attentions around him, the guards and servants stopping to stare - awestruck by the giant Wolf King and his shining consort, awash in gold and silver. They will never be able to escape the rumors, the whispered telling of their lives that seems to have swept the surrounding kingdom.

There is more important things to focus on now though than half lies and hidden whispers. Agron thinks they will be able to sneak into the dining room without anyone noticing, enough people around the table that their arrival will be just filling chairs. It is a hope that is lost as they approach, with instead of laughter and conversation, the room is oddly silent, all eyes trained to the front.

Agron first notices Duro's expression, a scowl slowly melting into a wide eyed grin, mouth falling open in shock. It is the look of pure elation, of realizing a joke that is not at one's own expense. It’s a sibling realizing their other has done something scandalous - something that will turn into a barb later. It only takes a glance over at Pietros to realize he's mirroring his husband, hand half pressed to his mouth.

It didn't seem so obvious when they had left the dark rooms of their suite, but now they wear it like a brand. Nasir's mouth is obviously bruised, cheeks flushed and spotted with three red marks down the length of his throat. There is a strand of hair loose from his long braids, a curl that is sweat wild and hand mused. Agron's aftermath isn't as obvious, though is hair is ruffled beyond any semblance of control and he clings Nasir against him, protective and needy.

"Greetings and welcome, Wolf King. We were not sure if you were going to join us." Emmerich stands at the head of the table, his expression hard and lined. He lets his gaze rove over the pair freely, judging and sharp as Lido stands at the other end, bowing his head to hide the sharp pink of his cheeks.

Beside him, Nasir doesn't glance up at Agron, instead takes a step forward, only trembling slightly as he hides the pain and sorrow behind a perfectly executed mask. Agron watches in silent horror as each Alptra's head in the room turn, suddenly acutely aware of what Nasir smells like, marked and covered in Agron's scent. Duro's gaze turns gold first, nearly letting out a bark of recognition of king mate, of Alpha, as Auctus and Barca get to their feet. Pietros stands too, bowing his head, pressing his lips together to keep the laugh inside him. Nasir is kingly as he brushes his hair back over his shoulder, smiling with all his teeth.

"Having three toddlers changes the nightly routine every evening." Nasir laughs it off, waving a hand. "We are here now. No worse for wear."

"How kind," Emmerich's mouth twists, modesty and tradition dripping in his voice, "that you found it within your busy schedule to join us. I am sure any of my servants would be more than happy to assist you in anyway."

Nasir stops mid-step, turning abruptly to look over Agron, eyes trailing from the tips of his boots to his wide eyes, a curl of a smirk pulling at his mouth. He doesn't need to hear it to know what Nasir is going to say.

"No, I think somethings are better when I do them myself."

Emmerich smiles with his lips together, tight and glaring. He refuses to address Nasir, nor give him his proper title, as he motions with his hand towards the open seats. They are sandwiched between the rest of the Alptraum and Kalmar, Nasir sitting closer to his brother with Agron's shoulder pressed tight to Duro's. As soon as they are seated, a bell chimes and servants begin to shuffle in, laying bowls of murky white soup before them. The voices that follow are hushed, murmurs as the guests nearly touch foreheads in to talk to one another.

"Oh, Nasir," Kalmar drawls, leaning in close enough that even Agron can hear him over the chime of spoons. "Always the troublemaker. Lido is going to explode before the evening is over."

"It is not my fault Emmerich is an old crypt. So we fucked against the door?" Nasir shrugs nonchalantly, leaning forward to snag his wine goblet. "I'm sure the servants heard. How did he think we managed to make three children in five years?"

"At least you didn't melt the wall," Kalmar raises a brow and Nasir laughs, sharp and loud, disturbing the subdued nature of the room.

"Night is still young, brother."

Agron feels his throat close, awed still by the sudden rush of affection at Nasir's carefree way of dealing with this all. He knows that he is hurting, knows that there are tears burning to seep out of him, but there is something beautiful and powerful about Nasir with a crown on his head and the world at his feet. He is unrepentant in his status, fierce and vicious, the perfect mate to hold Agron's hand and take on the world.

They eat in slowly creeping silence, spoons scraping against the glass bowls, goblets pressed to crystal. The wine is not as heavy as in Galena, not poisoned apple red, but instead a shimmering pink and gold, flecks of light swirling within it. Agron watches carefully as Nasir downs three glasses of it between courses, reaching over to gently press his hand to his husband's thigh. Nasir is quick to lace his fingers through Agron's, sliding their palms further along the crushed jewels in his outfit. Agron's knuckles hit the bottom of the chair, his whole palm wrapped around Nasir's warm thigh, close enough that he only would need to spread his fingers to touch where Nasir is most intimate.

 _Eat something substantial before you fill yourself with wine, my love._ Agron murmurs, cautiously taking a bite of the new dish before him. He can recognize some sort of bread crusting and jam, but whatever else is on the plate is lost to him.

_I am fine._

Nasir brushes his hair back over his shoulder and sets his goblet down. When the servant comes to refill it though, he does not reach for it, and instead picks up his fork. He doesn't take a full bite, but nibbles at something, tilting his head to listen to something Kalmar is whispering to him.

Agron counts it as a small victory and turns to Duro who is very carefully trying to move his food around and not take a full bite. In the corner of the room, there are three servants huddled together staring at them, crystal platters empty and hugged to their chests. They are blatant as they lean in against one another, diaphanous fabric brushing in a spectrum of shades, whispering and staring with violet eyes.

"I don't know what to make of them," Duro mutters in Alptraum, glancing up through his lashes. "They stare at us like they have never seen men before."

"They've never seen men like us before," Agron replies, shoulders brushing Duro's. "To them, we're no better than fucking beasts. Wolves from the south. Our reputation precedes us."

"Should we show them who we are?" Duro flashes his eyes towards the group and the servants' eyes widen, seizing under the stare. With fangs half grown, Duro grins until they bite into his bottom lip. It only seems to excite the group though, leaning back in to gasp fast words at one another.

"Behave. We are their guests," Agron reprimands, hiding his smirk in the rim of his goblet. "Emmerich might have a heart attack if you shift at his table."

"After what you two just did? I don't think he can handle much more." Duro snickers, nudging his shoulder into Agron's. "You're just lucky they can't smell you."

"Smell me?" Agron raises a brow, acting for innocent as he takes another bite. Against him, Nasir's thigh is slightly trembling, skin hot where it presses against the fabric. 

"You know what you smell like." Duro grumbles, stabbing his fork into the thin jelly lining his plate. "And they don't need our senses to know what you two have been up to."

"It's not the first time, it won't be the last." Agron leans back from Duro, but not before flashing his eyes at him, a smirk hidden once again behind his goblet.

Duro manages to swallow another bite of the custard and jam mixture, letting the spoon linger in his mouth. It's not what they're accustomed to, too light and sweet with a sharp tang on the end. He can feel his stomach twisting miserably, thinking of the thick smoked brisket probably being served in Galena right now, the mead and warm bread brought up from the kitchens, sausages and deep root potatoes buried deep in fire coal until the skin crisps. Figs smothered in honey and fresh cream and strawberries piled high on lacy sponge cakes. 

"I am going to starve here," Duro whines miserably, keeping his head ducked down so he won't have to look at the servants again. 

"It's not that bad," Agron tries to take another bite, feeling the food touch his tongue but then it seems to disappear, contents light and airy. He can see out of the corner of his eye that Nasir has barely eaten any of it either. 

"Where is the meat? The game hens bursting with juices and rosemary gravy? Boar spinning over a fire, encased in juniper and sage?" Duro leans his forehead against Agron's shoulder, fake sniffling. 

"Hush," Agron has to hide his laugh in the top of Duro's head, "We'll be fine. Just try and get through it."

"I have some jerky in our room still," Nasir hisses, leaning around Agron to meet Duro's eyes, "but you might have to fight Malik for it."

"You are not robbing our son to feed my insolent brother." Agron turns his body away from Duro, tapping his fingers on Nasir's chin. "Besides, that was for you."

“I can’t eat meat anymore.” Nasir’s mouth twists, stained pink with flecks of gold from the wine. 

“For now,” Duro waggles his eyebrows, pointedly looking down where Agron’s hand is curled around Nasir’s thigh. 

Flushing, Nasir rears back, hissing sharply. “Shut up.”

Across the table, Mika and Jem press their heads together and stare over at the Alptraum couple, eyes narrowed and smiling conspiratory. They don't have to speak for the hair on Agron's arm to raise, pointedly ignoring them and turning to look at his plate instead. He can still feel it though, the shift in air around them, the shimmering of magic. It does not feel the same as Nasir's, but something more subtle, a breath against the back of his neck. There is something to be feared with the twins, a kind of way about them that is conspiratory and clever. They can cut a man down with just a look. Agron has seen it.

"Little brother, you are looking very well." Mika begins, dark eyes shifting towards the right, pinning Nasir.

"Yes, quite well for just having had another son." Jem continues, his fork is poised for a bite, which he takes while showing his sharp teeth.

Nasir's hand twitches on top of Agron's, shifting slightly in his seat. He isn't sure what the twins angle is, but he knows they aren't above causing some sort of commotion to relieve the stress of the room. They also are busy bodies when it comes to Nasir's marriage, always wanting to know more than they should.

"Should we expect another one soon?" Mika asks, glancing at Agron quickly before turning his attention back to his brother.

"You seemed to have no issue creating three already. Your line is secured, but another couldn't hurt." Jem rests his hand on the table. "Already trying?"

"Stop it." Kalmar suddenly hisses, his Pythonissan sharp and pointed. Both of the twins raise their left eyebrows, intrigued by their brother's sudden defense.

"And your own marriage?" Mika hisses, a glimmer of red shining over his cheek. "Oh wait."

"You forget, Mika," Jem smirks, his Pythonissan only seeming to highlight the sharpness of his words. "Kalmar is above such base pleasures. He is only meant to serve and serve and serve."

"Too good for our chains so you enslaved yourself in another's?" Mika curls his top lip, an old wound suddenly seeming to fester.

"Stop." Nasir suddenly slams his goblet onto the table, the candelabra before him suddenly flaring bright with the surge of magic. "We are not starting this fight again."

"Yes, I agree." Lido speaks up, soft and regal as he sets his cutlery down. "We are here to discuss the funeral of our father, not to belittle Kalmar's choices nor terrorize Nasir about his clearly successful marriage."

"Successful?" Duro hisses, quiet enough that only Agron can hear, "Was it a job?"

“If it was, we clearly succeeded.” Agron mutters through clenched teeth, back straightening. 

“Both of them are starting to sound like…” Duro trails off, distracted by Pietros’ palm sliding into his, effectively cutting him off. 

Emmerich, seeming to have had enough, loudly clears his throat from the head of the table. His gnarled hands curl into fists before him, brow furrowed into a snarl. At once, servants rush forward and remove the dishes from the table, pointedly leaving the wine where it is. Silence once more falls over the room, not even the wind outside wailing through the mountain peaks seems to permeate it. 

"Kallistos has been resting within our deeper chambers for some time now, and it would be in your best interest to move forward promptly." Emmerich begins, eyes sweeping the table. "The people of Maerif are willing to accommodate everything you require."

"As per Pythonissan tradition, we all agree to burn Father's body on a bed of ash and elder branches," Lido begins, seeming to have procured a small scroll from his robes as he begins to read. "He will wear a crown of ivy, gold, and amber. When it is finished, his ashes will be sent back to Muka to rest with Fatin's."

"We will transport him." Mika murmurs, eyes downcast as he stares at where Jem's fingers entwine with his own. Any mirth or snark from before as the room falls into cold and silence.

"What gifts will be laid at his altar?" Lido asks after a moment, dipping his long reed in a small well of ink. There is a cold calculation in all of it, as if they are drawing up plans for a feast not a funeral. "I will be offering six diamonds for his six sons, each in remembrance of our power, our life, and our blood that we owe him."

"A cedar chest full of myrrh and frankincense to give vision and guidance to the afterlife," Pietros speaks first, huddled between Duro and Barca, he looks hollow eyed and thin. He does not move when his husbands wrap their arms around him, but instead stares into the opposite wall as if it will open and give him answers.

"One hundred gold bells and one hundred gold coins." Jem answers this time, sniffling slightly as he raises his head. "For prosperity and music, to gain Sator's blessing and his light."

"With one hundred silver bells and one hundred silver coins," Mika adds, "to symbolize humility and modesty in light of power beyond this world."

The twins are so close together they almost appear as if one being, detailing down to blinking at the same time. It would be eerie if not for their forlorn expressions, the dark circles under their eyes that seem to grow with every passing moment. They, who had the burden of caring for Kallistos all through his last days.

"I will lay down the pelt of a white stag, a gift of purity and magic, and two rowan wands wrapped in phoenix feathers in remembrance of diligence and healing." Kalmar replies next, reaching with a shaking hand for his wine goblet. He does not react when Darach has to hand it to him, keeping his fingers wrapped around the stem to steady Kalmar.

Lido writes it all down, only pausing to make sure the rest are done before he directs his attention to the last. Head tilted, Nasir sits frozen, staring at the table before him with unseeing eyes. From where his hand rests around Nasir's thigh, Agron can feel that he's shaking, nearly vibrating out of his skin, chest caught tight.

"And you, Nasir?" Lido asks, not unkind but probing. Yet, Nasir does not move, his bottom lip beginning to quiver.

 _Nasir, my love._ Agron leans in then, presses his mouth to Nasir's hair and caresses the curve of his arm. _Have strength._

"One snakeskin, sacred and left by a servant of Alkhaliq," Nasir suddenly murmurs, a shock of air flooding his lungs, "and a thousand crystals to guide him home."

Lido makes a note of it, purposefully not looking up when he hears the shuddered breaths of his siblings. He must stand strong in the wake of all of this, lead his family forward and through the grief. Their people need this strength. Lido needs it.

"As per tradition, the youngest in the family must light the pyre. Since Kieran is still too young to walk, I assume Sepp will stand in his place?" Lido barely glances up, already writing it down when Agron's voice cuts him off.

"No." Agron's palm tightens on Nasir's thigh. "We have decided to keep our sons out of this."

From the front of the table, Emmerich makes another condescending noise. It garbled in the back of his throat, leaning forward to place his palms flat on the crystal. When he turns, his eyes are glaring down the length of the table at Agron.

"You are a young king, Alptra Wolf, but we must remember that traditions are withheld for a reason." Emmerich's voice seems to boom in the silence, a warning tilt to it that makes the servants in the room instantly stand up taller. "We must show respect for our fallen elders."

"We are showing respect by being here and helping the Pythonissan, my husband's people, any way that we can." Agron replies, voice brittle as he tries to control the growl in it. "This does not include subjecting my toddlers to a concept they are not old enough to understand fully yet. They never met Kallistos."

"He wanted to meet them," Lido cuts in, frown wrinkling the curve of his brow. "More than anything. You would not allow it!"

“Kallistos was welcome in our land any time he so chose to come,” Agron raises a slow eyebrow, “If memory serves, he refused to.”

“Because Nasir did not want him there!” Lido does not raise his voice, but it feels as if he wants to. “He never met his own grandchildren out of your selfishness and pride!”

"It isn't Nasir's fault." Pietros snarls, leaning forward so he can meet Lido's gaze down the table. "Do not act as if Kallistos ever did anything without considering his own gain first. He was no fucking martyr."

“He-” Lido starts to defend, cut off as Pietros slams his hand down on the table, his wedding ring chipping the crystal. 

“He cannot sell a child he’s never met!”

Silence falls once again on the table, tempers rising as the temperament of the conversation shifts. Against Agron's palm, Nasir's leg hasn't stopped shaking, but he grips onto Agron's fingers with his own hard enough to bruise, huddled alongside one another. What Pietros is saying is true. Once Sepp had come into this world, Agron and Nasir had considered inviting the entire Pythonissan tribe to visit with them during the summer months. Mika and Jem arrived with their people on a full moon with gifts of songs and dance, a joyful reunion much appreciated and adored, and yet Kallistos was absent. Instead, he chose to stay in Muka at their temple and pray to the gods.

"I knew your father when he still walked this earth," Emmerich suddenly cuts in, eyes narrowed and seething, "and I wonder where you formed these ideas from. Your eldest son is nearly the same age as you when you took up mantle and began to battle for your birthright. And you, Nasir, were you not made to dance when you were the same?"

"I am not my father." Agron barks, his fingers curling tightly into Nasir's skin. He can feel the static electricity rise around him, hair standing on end, the curls of magic biting at the back of his throat.

"No. You are not." Emmerich's tone silences the room, mouths held half open in shock. He smooths his fingers calmly down his robe, leaning back as he stares over at Agron, unapologetically direct.

Turning in his chair, Agron purposefully puts Nasir half behind him, blocking his husband so Nasir cannot see the eerie glow his eyes are taking. He has had about enough of this place already, tired of the icy temperatures of the climate and of this court. If Agron had his way, they would have sent a gift in condolence for Kallistos' passing and would have never left Galena, especially considering the pain it causes Nasir to even sit within this room. Agron has no issue though with defending his children and levels Emmerich with a glare.

"This is not up for discussion. We will choose to do what we will with our children. Any other opinions and you can kindly shove them up your ass."

"I have had about enough of your disrespect." Emmerich suddenly pushes back from the table, two guards coming to flank him. "You do not command in my kingdom. You are my guest and will do as I say."

"My disrespect?" Agron shoves back as well, being closely followed by Duro and next to him Auctus then Barca. The three of them make a wall of leather armor and fur, swords clasped to hip. "Do not think to test me, old man. I still command the Alptra people and that includes those within your walls."

"Are you threatening me?" Emmerich snarls, motioning with his hand and the guards draw their own thin blades, the metal shining a faint blue.

"I'll do it! I'll fucking light the pyre!" Nasir stands next to his husband, shimmering a scattering of gold over the table as the light reflects off him. "I am the youngest son. It is my birthright."

"Nasir," Mika whispered, shocked and pleading. Beside him, Jem has gripped his wine glass hard enough his knuckles are white.

"That is all good and well, but I will not stand idle while brutes-" Emmerich begins, words snarled and thick inside his mouth.

"Fucking brutes?" Duro snaps, teeth gnashing as he reaches for the hilt of his swords. Cut off as now Kalmar and Darach make to their feet, shouting loudly in distress, the twins following just behind.

“Half breed animals!” Emmerich shouts, his chair nearly toppling as he stands. Down the table, Lido sits with his hands over his face, cowering into himself. “You will control yourselves or-“

“Fucking do your worst, you disgusting ogre!” Duro moves to push the wine glasses off the table, aiming to jump upon it. Only Auctus’ hand firm on his shoulder stops him. 

"Enough!"

Slamming his hands upon the table, Nasir pushes his chair back with enough force it clatters and chips the ice floor. Candles roar into life, cutting the room into sharp contrast that is nearly blinding as Nasir’s eyes glow and the wind rises. A goblet topples, spilling wine like a sea of blood over the crystal. Nasir commands attention - royal and shimmering - as even Lido falls silent, staring at his little brother with huge and glassy eyes. It is rare when Nasir shows his true power.

“We fall to fucking madness.” Nasir snaps, his fingers in Agron’s sweaty and warm. “Let us conduct ourselves like men.”

“I only-“ Emmerich starts, but Nasir shatters a goblet in front of him, the crystal hanging in the air before falling to the floor. Mika and Jem share a look, gaping and shocked. 

"Let us be done with the niceties and falsehoods.” Nasir hisses, the teeth in his mouth elongating to sharp daggers against his bottom lip. “We will send our father into his afterlife in three days and return back to our kingdoms and our lives. I have grown tired of this lying game."

Looking around, Nasir's mouth twists in disgust, having to curl his hands into fists to refrain from his magic lashing out again. Instead, he reaches for Agron, allowing him to loop their arms together as the Alptraum remove themselves from the table, never turning to look back at the shocked crowd.

 

\- - - 

 

Only the snow wetly thumping against the stained glass and the soft taps of their feet on the stone sounds within the castle as Agron leads Nasir back to their rooms. Barca, Auctus, Duro and Pietros break away from them down one hallway, Pietros clasping Nasir's hand for only a moment, pressing a quick kiss to both of his cheeks. 

There are no words to give, the silence pressing like a vice around them. Guards and servants turn to watch, whispering behind hands and into ears. They are not bold enough to raise their voices enough for the couple to hear, but the rumors are all the same, regardless of what kingdom. 

Agron closes the door to their rooms sharply, once more shutting out the prying eyes of the Maerif's. Nasir releases him with the sounding of the lock, turning sharply towards the children's rooms, Diona drowsing outside. He spares her no mind, poking his head into both bedrooms before slipping into his own. 

Agron lingers longer, sending Diona to her room with gentle words and an ushering hand. Peering into each room, Agron makes sure that Malik and Sepp are still asleep, sprawled next to one another with arms spread wide. Kieran suckling on his fist, small body curled tight, appears as if a cherub among his blankets. Apep's small head is tucked close, a warrior hidden among silk and furs. 

Agron stays only a moment longer in the hall, making sure that the extra guards placed in the foyer are of Alptra descent before he leaves them to stand watch. They bow their head in respect, eyes flashing in recognition as Agron steps into the bedroom, closing and locking the door tightly. It is a necessary precaution, especially considering what has happened just downstairs. 

A few candles burn low on the bedside table, seeming to scatter the light in golds and oranges up along the wall. Nasir's clothes lay in a heap on the floor, a whole galaxy cast off among the crystal and ice. Instead, he has pulled on one of Agron's tunics, the cream fabric falling to mid-thigh, hem embroidered in small silver leaves. It makes his scent stronger, Agron's nose twitching with how strongly Nasir smells like home, like mate. 

Agron pauses mid-step, fingers going to his sword belt. He unhooks it slowly, setting the metal across the chest at the footboard, watching his husband slowly reclining against the pillows. Agron makes no comment, but he recognizes the fur blankets Nasir is lounging on as the ones from their bed in Galena. He must have packed them and spread them across the silk duvet the Maerif's provided.

"Do you remember our wedding night?" Nasir's bare legs slow drag against one another, the hem of his shirt raising higher and higher.

"Vividly." Agron tosses his cloak back over a nearby chair, kicking his boots off next. 

"I remember I was so afraid." Nasir murmurs, fingertips brushing over his lips, dragging back and forth. "I was trembling so hard I nearly fell down the steps of my wagon. Pietros had to help me."

Agron pauses at the end of the bed, watching Nasir closely as he pulls his tunic over his head. Across his back, from his left shoulder down towards his spine, three paw prints have been inked into his skin. It hides part of Isolde's scar - her lasting sacrifice and a tribute forever for his three sons. The white and red lines of a coiled snake curve over his left pectoral, gold implanted for its eye. Nasir traced it with his tongue the first time he had seen it, had never had his heart feels so full or so warm. 

"You shook when I kissed you, even when I laid you down." Agron muses, leaning one arm on the far right poster of the bed. "I had never touched anything as beautiful as you and I never will."

Nasir smiles faintly, shaking his head. "My father wouldn't even walk me from the camp. He just kissed my forehead and told me to do whatever made you happy. To give you whatever you wanted."

"Nasir," Agron curls his fingers around Nasir's bare ankle. "You have never not made me happy. Do not lose yourself to bad thoughts."

"Why didn't you take me?" Nasir's dark eyes seem almost black in the light. "Why are you not like Emmerich? Why was I blessed and Lido was tortured? You could have. You still can."

"I am not that man, my love." Agron answers honestly, shrugging a little. "I do not decide fates this way, and neither do you. I am the way that I am because I choose to be. You didn't escape pain, even if Lido believes you have. You have suffered too, just not in the same way."

Nasir shudders in a gasp, then threat of tears clinging in the corner of his eyes. "Sometimes, I wish you were cruel. I wish you would be the monster you're supposed to be so I can hate Kallistos the way I think I should. So Lido will stop looking at me like I have betrayed him."

"What?" Agron pauses his movements, a dark pit growing in the center of his chest, heat erupting over the back of his neck. The words sting at him, lick at old wounds suddenly pulled open. 

"I want you to hurt me. Take what you want. Emmerich has no qualms against it. Kallistos wanted you to," Nasir sits up, hair tumbling around him. There are tears in his eyes and his cheeks red, sniffling against his wrist. "Gerulf wanted you to. He hated how we were."

"Don't say his name," Agron shudders through the words, having to bite his teeth together to keep from growling. "How can you say that to me? After everything we've fought for? The lives we have risked? Have I not proven myself to you over and over again? Do you think if I was cruel to you, if I was abusive and cold, that this would make any of this better?"

"Agron-" Nasir's eyes widen, freezing on the bed as the weight of what he's implied sinks in. "I do not think you capable of-"

"I never thought I would hear you say those words to me." Agron itches to yank his hand away, to hide from the cruel twisting in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't though, only freezes and stares at Nasir, face calm even as he feels like he is breaking. "This guilt, this anger you have, will not make it better if you give into it. We can only move forward, let the past be the past."

"I didn't mean it. I just don't know-" Nasir's hands curl towards his chest, spitting words around sobs. "I don't know what to do with this."

Agron says nothing, fingers twitching around Nasir's ankle. He cannot solve this problem for Nasir. It is something he needs to work through himself. 

"He hates my father, even though he loves him. Lido will never forgive Kallistos for selling him off." Nasir hiccups, shaking his head. "And I want to hate him, I want to scream and feel nothing when I look upon his corpse, but then I see you and I see our children, and how can I? How can I curse his name when he gave me you?"

"Nasir, stop."

Agron makes a pained noise in the back of his throat, slowly crawling up the bed towards his husband. Nasir doesn't pull away from him, instead curls along Agron's body, burying his face in Agron's chest. Even this far from home, this is all he needs to feel safe, to hide from the world - his own made oasis. The tears are hot when they soak into Agron's skin, Nasir smothering his sobs there. 

"Kallistos isn't Emmerich and he's not Gerulf," Agron murmurs into Nasir's hair, "You don't have to hate him the way you hate them."

"I hate him," Nasir whispers, pulling back so he can grip Agron's face, "but I love you. I can forgive him because he gave me you, even if he didn't do it on purpose."

"I am not Emmerich. And I am not Gerulf," Agron replies, kissing Nasir's forehead. "And neither of those things are your fault or are within your control, Nasir. Lido places blame on you because he's hurt and he has no other way to express that pain except for rage and jealousy."

"We need to get him out of here, out of this." Nasir whimpers, scooting down to once again press against Agron's chest. "Please."

"I will do all I can, my love." Agron vows, pressing a series of kisses into Nasir's hair. "I promise."

Tilting his face up, Nasir captures Agron's mouth with his own, curling tight and warm against him. He doesn't let go either, tugging until Agron has half rolled onto him, heavy and burning up. There is a desperation in the air, a certain tension that makes the kisses faster, harder, with desperate hands and fingertips. Spreading his legs around Agron's waist, Nasir keeps him there, panting against Agron's now bruised lips. 

"Make love to me." Nasir gasps, his face still wet with tears. "I need to feel you inside of me."

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you." Agron brushes Nasir's hair back from his face. "But no."

"What?" Nasir pulls away slowly, brow furrowing in confusion. Agron is careful as he pushes him back, slipping his feet back on the floor. 

"What you said to me," Agron sighs and shakes his head, eyes downcast, "Nasir-"

"I didn't mean it!" Nasir raises up on his knees, almost chasing Agron across the bed, "Please. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to say-"

Holding his hand up, Agron raises his gaze to look at Nasir's, and when he does it cuts the other man down. Nasir can see a new sort of light in Agron's eyes, something dark and festering, a hurt that can't be soothed away by slow kisses and losing oneself in each other. This runs deeper and Nasir has ripped the scars wide open. 

"You didn't mean it, but you said it. And I think a little part of you does want it." Agron's voice is even, empty. "It would be easy to pass all of this off as anger towards me if I was a monster. If I was as cruel as Gerulf wanted me to be. I thought I had proven to you that I'm not that man. And yet, after everything we've been through, our fucking children laying in the next room, and you ask me why I can't be more like that? A man who lays his hands on you? Who takes what he wants? Who throws you around and beats you because I am king and I can?"

"Agron-" Nasir gaps, shaking his head, but he knows the damage is done. 

"I just-" Agron steps backwards, leaving his sword and sparse clothes on the floor. Instead, he retreats towards the door instead, retying his leather pants. "I think you need to get some rest and I don't think it should be with me."

"Agron please, I'm sorry!" Nasir cries, desperate and terrified that Agron is going to leave and not come back. 

"Goodnight. I love you, Nasir. I just can't be in here right now."

Agron shuts the door with a soft click and Nasir feels the floor tilt, collapsing back into the bed with a raw cry.

He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. Sitting in a bed that doesn’t smell like them, surrounded by furs and Agron’s own clothes. Nasir wishes he could reach into his mouth and rip out his tongue. Why did he have to say those words? Cruel and twisting and selfish. Nasir has been blessed with Agron. A fucking saint compared to what he could have had. But a dark side of him knows Lido wouldn’t hate him as much, Nasir wouldn’t feel as guilty, if he had been married to a monster. 

The feeling of Agron dying still stings behind Nasir’s ribs, a scar he will wear until death takes him. The shredding of their magic, their whole future going up in embers. He has felt it sometimes in the dark, when the shadows press hard and air is choked from his lungs. Gerulf’s cruel eyes glaring from the deep, his hands on Nasir’s throat, his waist. Nasir has woken to too many nightmares, smothering his screams in Agron’s chest and clinging. 

Slipping from the bed, Nasir pads barefoot out of their room and down the hall. The guards are smart enough not to comment or respond to Nasir’s half naked state, having been used to enough strange things happening in the king’s suite to stare. Instead, they silently step to the side when Nasir draws up to Malik and Sepp’s bedroom. 

Agron is sprawled between both boys, one of his arms thrown over his head. Malik is curled up against his left side, a mass of dark curls and smooth cheeks. One of his tiny fists is curled around the leather cords hanging down Agron’s chest, twisting his fingers in the strands. Sepp is a ball against Agron’s hip, curled up tight with his cheek pressed firmly to the cut of Agron’s hip, drooling. Nestled just in the curve of his arm, on his back with his arm in the same position, Kieran snores softly at the ceiling, a stuffed book against his waist. 

Nasir leans heavily against the doorframe, silently raising his hand to his mouth. If he grips there tight enough, he can keep the sobs swallowed in his throat. His whole world encompassed in a tiny bed too far away from home. Anger swells in Nasir’s chest – fury at himself, rage against Lido’s harsh judgement, the sharp contrast of loving and hating Kallistos. The past that in encroaches when Nasir tries to move forward. The shackles of trauma and pain he can’t seem to fucking shake.

It doesn’t matter.  
Nothing does.  
Except for the four people in this bed. 

Slipping forward, Nasir extinguishes the oil lamp on the table, presses a kiss to Malik’s curls, Sepp’s cheek, Kieran’s tightly closed fist. For Agron, Nasir brushes his fingertips down the long slope of Agron’s nose, tracing along his cupid’s bow. He lets a kiss linger just between his eyebrows, slowly breathing in. 

He won’t waste the words on a sleeping Agron. Will say what needs to be said and look into Agron’s beautiful eyes and pray that everything isn’t ruined. 

 

\- - - 

 

Kalmar’s body twinges with every quick step he takes down the vast hall, hips stiff and back sore. He isn’t used to the cold hardness of this land, the bleak weather, nor the passion of his new fiancé. It makes his gait awkward, though quick, and shoulders back with harsh determination. Darach had tried to lull him back to bed, but Kalmar cannot lose himself to pleasure when issues threaten to tear his family to shreds. 

He can see out of the corner of his eye that the Maerif guards are not shy about staring, turning slowly and tracking him. They must know where he’s headed, vines curling over and over around his arms, rage crackling the air around him. They lash out when he reaches the door he’s looking for, slamming the crystal against the wall with a sharp bang. 

“You miserable fuck!” Kalmar snarls, stomping up the lilac and blue steps. Lido’s servant, Ariadne, stands quickly from his side, reaching for the fruit knife on the small table before her. Lido’s hand catches her though, slowly standing from the cushioned bench he is resting on. 

“That was a little dramatic,” Lido sighs, motioning with his free hand for the guards to shut the door, brushing his cloak back. “There is no need to throw a temper tantrum, Kali.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Kalmar snarls, having little regard for the wide eyed stare he’s receiving. “What have you done?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I have been in my rooms all morning.” Lido slowly stands, uncurling his thin body to his full height. He has stands at least five inches taller than Kalmar, regal and tragically beautiful with his silver paint and diamonds. 

“You fucking do.” Kalmar jabs a finger into Lido’s shoulder as hard as he can, ignoring Ariadne’s sharp inhale. “What did you say to Nasir? Why is he refusing to see any of us? Mika and Jem haven’t even been allowed in.”

Gracefully stepping over the thick rug on the floor, Lido moves to the balcony windows instead, carefully pulling back the gossamer curtains. Outside, heavy icy pelts down from a dark sky, the morning awash in gray and sleet. It feels as if there is never any sun here, the only think reflecting light is the thousands of crystals and ice that make up the castle. 

“I did nothing and said nothing that Nasir doesn’t already know.” Lido shrugs slowly, everything about him graceful and poised. He appears apathetic, made more of stone than his own castle. 

Circling slowly, Kalmar narrows his eyes. There is barely a year that separates them, both having been raised close due to the tragedy of their mothers. Kalmar knows his brother, thought he knew, but this man before him is a shade compared to the Lido he once called his best friend. One that used to be kind and gentle, quick to quiet laughter and mischief. 

“When are you going to stop blaming him for being happy? Are you that miserable and that self centered you want us all to suffer with you?” Kalmar hisses, a patch of green scales slides up the side of his cheek, making his dark eyes gleam chartreuse for a moment. “Do you think it has been easy for any of us? You are not the only one who was traded like meat at the block.”

“You come here to chastise me while wearing bruises from your own master?” Lido raises a brow, his chiffon cloak slides over his shoulders, light enough it does not smear his paint. “What a tragic stand. You have given him exactly what he’s paid for, what they all paid for.”

“The only tragedy in this castle is how you are so lonely and so miserable you wish to see all of us join you,” Kalmar steps forward, latching a warm hand around Lido’s wrist, tugging him close. “Would seeing Nasir beaten and enslaved make you happy? Knowing we all our fighting for our lives? That our fate is the same as yours?”

“I never-“ Lido begins, brow furrowing, but Kalmar’s scoff cuts him off. 

“Your jealousy clouds you,” Kalmar moves his fingers to between Lido’s. “We have nephews because of the grace of Sator. Our family is not dead because of it. I am able to stand beside you because of it, happy for once in my life. We have all offered you a way out, why won’t you take it?”

Lido’s eyes meet Kalmar’s watery and dark, a line of glitter threatening to mark down his cheek. It freezes there, a diamond shimmering in the midst of silver still marring his smooth skin

“He is my husband. I should be happy. He has said so.”

“Agron is Nasir’s husband.” Kalmar shakes his head defiantly, squeezing his fingers. “Darach will be mine. Mika and Jem bound together forever and equal.”

“He-“ Lido begins again, throat catching when Kalmar draws even closer, wrapping his hand around the back of Lido’s neck. He presses their foreheads together, intimate and close, enough that Ariadne squirms but drops her eyes. 

“He is your captor, your master. Kallistos is dead and we are free now.” Kalmar squeezes Lido’s fingers hard enough he feels as if he will bruise. 

“You are free now. I never will be,” Lido tries to wrench away but Kalmar holds tight, fingertips digging into Lido’s neck. “I am his! Emmerich owns me. He paid for me, for my powers.”

“You blind fool! Free yourself! Has Agron and Nasir not offered their men, their whole kingdom, in aid of your freedom? Darach and I with our thousands of elves. Even Mika and Jem, all of the Pythonissan magic behind them,” Kalmar snaps, voice pleading. “Let us help you.”

“I am a Seer’s consort – an oracle. I cannot abandon my people for temporary bliss.” Lido shakes his head. “I was taken because of my powers-“

“You were taken because of your beauty and Emmerich’s fucking empty bed.” Kalmar wrenches away then, curling his fists tighter to keep his magic back. It doesn’t work though, vines curling up the walls, bursting forth with blood red flowers and thorns. 

“That is not-“ Lido tries to say, the tears on his face giving way to the opposite. 

“Fine! Fucking rot here in your tragedy and cage.” Kalmar squares his shoulders, spitting venom around his words. “But stay the fuck away from my little brothers.”

“Kali, you can’t be serious.” Lido begins, reaching out with desperate hands. “I have a duty here. I have made my life here, since I was fourteen, I have been their consort.”

“You are a Pythonissan prince, Lido. For fucks sake!” Kalmar shouts, “I have seen your magic. I have seen you dance. Your fucking scales and your eyes. Your blood is my blood. Is their blood! Remember who you are. Remember what your mother died for. Or forget us – all of us – and stay here with your misery and your rotting corpse of a master.”

Kalmar slams the door opens with enough force they nearly shatter, guards scurrying out of the way to get out of his path. 

\- - - 

 

With Sepp on his hip, it’s easier to ignore the rumble of his stomach and eerie silence around them. Duro tries to channel his energy into that, entertaining his nephew and not the raw and red look around Agron’s eyes. Kieran is a bundle of blankets in the king’s arms, dark eyes roving around the castle, gnawing absentmindedly at one of Agron’s fingers. He only whimpered once when they passed out of the bedrooms, heading on a winding path through the castle. 

Malik is a bundle of energy in front of them, toddling forward and then running back, barking happily. He has his fangs out, eyes gleaming sharply in the dim light as his small feet pad over the ice. There is a small circlet lost in his curls, the silver moon hanging between his eyebrows. 

“Daddy!” Malik giggles, skipping around Agron’s legs. “Can we play tag?”

“Not now, habibi.” Agron ghosts a hand over the top of Malik’s head. “Why don’t you try and count all the windows for me? Remember, we’re working on counting this week.”

“Windows are boring.” Malik mutters, kicking his feet moodily out in front of him. “Can we go play swords?”

“They don’t have that room here, little man.” Agron drawls, “Count the guards if you want.”

“No counting.” Malik whines, shaking his shoulders – the beginning of a temper tantrum. “Daddy! I’m bored!”

“Malik-“ Agron turns sharply, eyes gleaming and Malik whines higher, dropping his head back. 

“Where is Baba?” Sepp asks, swinging his leg against Duro’s side, effectively kicking him in the spleen over and over. 

“Baba is resting.” Agron answers, suddenly very interested in adjusting Kieran’s grip on his fingers. 

“How about you and Seppy make up a story to tell us when we’re done with our walk?” Duro prompts, swinging his nephew down to walk beside his brother. Sepp instantly takes Malik’s hand in his own. 

“Okay!” Malik agrees readily, already dashing forward with his brother. He doesn’t go too far, barely fifteen feet before he looks back, making sure he can still see Agron. 

Duro waits until the boys are occupied before he turns towards his own brother, leveling him with a careful look. Agron looks dead on his feet, a stern determination settling in his jaw that hides his dimples and furrows his brows. Duro recognizes that look, knows what it means if Nasir isn’t nestled into Agron’s side as he usually is on these daily walks. 

“Did you fight when you got back to your rooms?” Duro asks softly, keeping his tone quiet enough that no guards will over hear. “Last night was…” Duro trails off, twisting his face.

“Intense? A fucking nightmare?” Agron mutters, shifting Kieran to his other arm. The babe doesn’t seem to mind the movement, instead, he switches to gripping onto one of Agron’s armor leather strap. He twists his fingers around the metal medallions connecting each part, the snarling face of a wolf carved into them. 

“What was the point in coming here if all we are going to do is be insulted and fight amongst one another?” Duro leans in close enough the edge of his cloak brushes Agron’s. “Pietros was nearly catatonic last night. He wouldn’t talk to any of us. He just wanted to sit in a chair in the corner wrapped in some old blanket the twins gave him.”

“Nasir wasn’t really himself either.” Agron draws in a slow breath, hold back his sign. “I had a feeling we should have stayed in Galena, but I couldn’t really say no.”

“What do you mean?” Duro ignores a guard slowly turning his head to watch them. It’s eerie the way he can hear the creaking of their white armor and nothing else.

“He is mad that I am not like Emmerich.” Agron answers through his teeth, keeping his eyes forward. “That I am not what Father crafted me to be.”

“What?” Duro shouts, his voice echoing down the hall. Guards instantly draw to attention, Malik and Sepp freezing at the end of the hall, turning with already glowing eyes. The glare Agron turns towards Duro is cold enough it seems frigid in comparison to the ice around them. 

“Hold your fucking tongue,” Agron snarls, curling Kieran closer to his chest to sooth the fussing babe. He motions towards Malik and Sepp with an open hand, reassuring and quick. “It’s okay, _Wolfsjunges_ keep going.”

Easily chastised, Duro ducks his head and continues walking, his cheeks red and burning. It isn’t until they’ve turned down two more halls and Sepp has had a complete meltdown over not being able to climb a curtain that Agron finally glances over at Duro, bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“He was hysterical – the fight at dinner, the trip up here, Kieran barely being six months old before we left, it’s been a lot for him.” Agron shrugs helplessly, rubbing his free hand over his face. “But the way he said it last night, he begged for me to hurt him.”

“Hey,” Duro instantly is against his side, pressing his forehead to Agron’s. “You know that is not you. I don’t know why Nasir would say that to you, but that is not who you are.”

“I thought when I killed him, it was over.” Agron sighs, accepting Duro’s kiss to his forehead. He wraps one arm around Duro’s neck, careful of Kieran between them. “Why is he the fucking ghost that clings to everything we do? Everything is tainted by him.”

“He isn’t. He isn’t, Agron, look at me.” Duro leans back, holding the sides of Agron’s neck. “It is over. It has been over for a long time.”

“He will always be here.” Agron’s voice trails off, distracted by the flickering of the candles above them, a gust of wind suddenly snuffing their glow. The hall doesn’t fall into complete darkness, the crystal glowing eerily, ribbons of lilac and pink ricocheting in thin lines up and down inside the ice. 

“What the-“ Duro glances around, hand instinctually reaching for the sword at his side. 

Whatever Agron is about to say in response gets swallowed up by Sepp’s high pitched whimper, standing on his toes with his arms raised towards Duro. Malik lingers just behind, chewing on his tunic’s sleeve with glowing eyes and hair beginning to sprout along the back of his neck. He glances at both men nervously before stepping towards Agron, wrapping his free arm around one of Agron’s thighs. 

“Uncle Duro,” Sepp whispers, tugging roughly on the edge of Duro’s cloak, “Up!”

Duro easily hoists the boy back on his hip, cradling the back of Sepp’s head against his shoulder just as a group rounds the corner in front of them. In the half dark they look like ghosts, a group of some dozen young men wrapped in gauzy white, their long hair kept loose and flowing around them, shimmering in golds and auburn. A silver cuff around each of their wrists gives a hint at their status, but it is cemented as following just behind, guards surround him, Emmerich slowly strides down the hall. He stops abruptly when he takes in the two Alptra men, hand raised. 

“Ah, Wolf King,” Emmerich waves a hand before him in a tight circle. His gaze flickers from Agron to Duro, accessing and appraising. “And Wolf Prince, I take it?”

“Emmerich.” Agron doesn’t tilt his head as is the custom, instead, he carefully reaches down and laces his fingers in Malik’s wild hair, soothing over the soft strands and easing him back from his half shift. Malik only clings tighter, his cheek pressing against the leather on Agron’s thigh. 

Emmerich moves between his entourage, brushing his wrinkled fingers along their bare waists. The men do not move, appear to barely be breathing. “Taking the pups for a walk?”

Fury burns through Agron, boiling hot and acidic in his chest, moving on instinct as he presses a shoulder into Duro’s, halting the snarl working its way free of his brother’s throat. He curses himself for being foolish enough to leave their suite without a squadron of guards – back up at least to surround and protect them. Instead, Agron had wanted the space and freedom to not be constantly reminded of his title, to spend time with his children and avoid his suite. 

“My sons,” Agron replies sharply, “and I often take strolls around the halls of our home in Galena. They are not used to being so far away from there.”

“Nor surrounded by ice and catatonic lap pets," Duro grumbles, teeth gnashing sharply. He won't fully shift though, not willing to put Sepp down nor the other children in danger.

Emmerich makes a considering noise, once more dragging his gaze over the small group the way one might inspect a bug curled on a patch of stones. He begins with Duro and Sepp, taking careful note of the way the toddler’s head is half burrowed in Duro’s throat, face turned in. Kieran is silent and waiting in Agron’s thick arms, fingers still around a leather strap. Drawing close and then pressing his hands to his knees, Emmerich cranes his heavy body down towards Malik. The toddler doesn’t recoil like expected though, instead he lifts his head slightly from where it’s pressed to Agron’s thigh and lets out a soft growl, baring his teeth. 

“A feisty one, huh? A good trait for a future king.” Emmerich smirks, cooing at Malik. “You do look startlingly like Nasir though.”

"He is his father." Agron raises a slow eyebrow, his fingers on Malik's neck slowly stroking over his pulse. 

"I am sure it was a disappointment though." Emmerich hums again, leaning up to glance at Kieran next, raising a brow. "This one looks more like you though. And the eldest might grow out of it."

"Let us be done with this fuck," Duro snarls in Alptraum, keeping his fangs back by sheer force alone. 

"I have seen your future, did you know?" Emmerich asks, ghostly blue eyes slipping over to Duro and then down to Sepp. "And your past. All the dark parts seeping into your perfect little life."

“A future is what one makes of it. It isn’t written in stone,” Duro shifts Sepp higher on his hip, fingertips digging into the babe’s thigh. Sepp raises his tiny fist to his mouth, confused by the tenseness of the situation and the gasping noise Emmerich makes when he sees the dark circles around Sepp’s wrists, appearing almost as if inked into his skin – cuffs showing the venom he survived. 

“I must admit we all are very curious about this one. Lido told me that Nasir was poisoned by vampires?” Emmerich raises a knowing eyebrow, a smirk pulling the wrinkles on his face. “Vampire venom is only most potent when injected straight from the source though. Poisoning of this magnitude must have been from a very powerful one. Tell me, Agron, how many times did Nasir let Caesar bite him before it was too much?”

"Don't-" Agron begins with a growl, hackles raised, only cut off as fingers slowly slide over his shoulder, a wisp of long black hair ghosting over his elbow. It’s joined a moment later by its twin pressing along the length of Duro’s body, a vision in gold and green. 

"Get away from our nephews." Mika snaps, a lick of flames ghosting over his knuckles. Agron is well versed in this magic that he doesn’t react but Emmerich’s eyes widen, mouth half falling open. He doesn’t retreat until he spots Jem though, the water dripping from his fingers leaving a large stain on Duro’s tunic. 

“Titanis,” Emmerich cranes his head to the side, addressing one of the men behind him. “Remind me to order the castle scrubbed once this spectacle is over. I am tired of seeing all the filth.”

He turns with a flourish of his cloak and Agron steps forward, half shift already when Kieran gives a warbling cry, lifting his arms. The sound freezes him, stuck with wrath crawling up his throat, lifting his son against his shoulder. Mika was wise enough to let go of him, but he presses a hand once more to Agron’s shoulder, half pushing him back and moving before him. 

“Not yet.” Mika hisses in Pythonissan, eyes shimmering faintly gold. “It will do us no good if you slaughter him before a hundred witnesses.”

“I want his throat.” Agron gnashes his teeth, his palm looking huge with claws extended, carefully pressed to Kieran’s back. 

“Soon, Agron, soon.” Jem comforts, leaning on Duro as he pets his fingers through Sepp’s hair. “But not yet.”

Drawing in a slow breath, Agron presses a kiss to Kieran’s damp cheek and brushes his tears away. Malik hasn’t moved from his side, though he has poked tiny holes in the leather of Agron’s pants with his own claws, watching everyone carefully before he tilts his head up towards his father. 

“I want Baba.” 

That seems to shake the mood as Mika crouches down, hoisting Malik up on his own hip. He presses a dozen kisses to the little boy’s face, getting the prince to giggle and paw at him, too young to understand what has just happened. Instead, he is easily amused by attention and the flames adoring the crown of Mika’s head. 

“He does pose an interesting question.” Jem smiles slow, raising a brow. No matter the occasion, the twins always give the impression they know something you don’t, smirking wide at Agron. “We went to your rooms earlier to get his help with the funeral dance and were told Nasir was busy and wouldn’t see us. If you are out here,” Jem’s dark gaze shifts to somewhere south of appropriate and then back to Agron’s face, “what is he doing?”

“Definitely not a secret lover. These three are proof you keep him happy.” Mika bounces Malik, watching the toddler play with one of his necklaces. “You aren’t keeping him waiting, are you? Prolonged pleasure? Agonizing foreplay?” 

“Caelestis’ sake!” Duro hisses, exasperated and flushed. “There are children!”

“Baba is sad today.” Malik sighs dramatically in Pythonissan, his little voice slurring around some of the vowels, rolling his eyes. “And Daddy said he was have to let him rest.”

“Sad?” Jem and Mika say together, sharing a glance and then looking at Agron. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing.” Agron purses his lips, sighing. “You were at the table last night. You know why we are here in the first place.”

“Well.” Jem reaches forward, pulling Kieran from Agron’s grasp. The babe doesn’t seem to mind, though he does turn his head to look at Agron, making sure he’s still there. “I think it’s time for the little wolves to go visit their Uncle Pietros?” 

“I uh-“ Duro begins to interject but Jem cuts him off with a look, a glare that looks startlingly like Nasir’s. 

“We want to go visit our little brother,” Mika lets Malik down so he can lead the way, using his free arm to wrap around one of Agron’s. He makes sure to dig his fingers into the muscle. “So you can go fuck our other one happy.”

“You don’t-“ Agron begins to refuse, watching the conflicting emotions ghost over Mika’s expression. And fuck, even the way his face smooths from smirking glee to slow realization is a mirror to the youngest Pythonissan. It twists sharp in Agron’s chest, a flare he can’t quench. 

“Oh.” Reaching up, Mika cups his cheek, petting over his stubble. “Whatever happened, I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

Agron smiles with tight lips, trying to pull back but Mika clings tighter. 

“I mean it, Agron. You know he loves you. You’re his heart, his entire world.” Mika smiles a little, encouraging and soft. “Go talk it out.”

He slips away with a chaste kiss to Agron’s cheek, going to chase Malik up the hall. Duro lingers for half a moment longer, waiting for Agron’s nod before he follows the group. He only gets a half a glance at his older brother when he rounds the corner, but Agron’s hands are in his hair and he’s tilted his face up to the ceiling in frustration. 

 

\- - - 

 

Nasir has not been this tired in a long time. A heavy weight has settled on his tired and sore eyes, muscles bunched and tight along his shoulders. The dull ache in his lower back is only heightened by the way he’s sitting, knees drawn to his chest with his arms folded over them, his chin perched on top. The window seat is heavily covered in thick velvet cushions, a dusty mauve with silver piping, but the large window against Nasir’s right side robs any comfort from him, cold and wet snow splattering against the pane. It has not stopped since they arrived. 

He’s sent everyone from the apartment, ushering Bagoas and Diona out with sharp looks and quick words, all except for the two guards at the door. He command they stand outside though, leaving him to the dim glow from outside and a low burning fire. The thing of it is is that Nasir wants to feel miserable, to punish himself for what happened last night, for what he said. 

The morning had been torture, silent and prolonged as the small family had breakfasted together, interrupted by toddler chatter and the fact that Agron would not look at Nasir. Nasir did not have the courage to try and get him alone, instead left standing awkwardly in the center of the suite as Agron had led the boys out with a quick note of his return later.

Dragging his fingers along the frosted window, Nasir twists the crystals to move, manipulating them to carve small curls and dots in the ice. It extends over the whole pane, a simple trick, but enough that it leaves some of the glass exposed - enough Nasir catches the reflection of the front door opening before he hears it. Agron enters silently, head ducked and careful at he latches the door after himself, lingering just beyond the threshold. He crosses his arms over his chest as Nasir drags his chin along his forearms, turning his head to look at his husband, bottom lip between his teeth.

“The twins wanted to visit Pietros with the boys.” Lifting his hand, Agron scratches the side of his nose. “They didn’t give me much choice.”

“Okay.” Nasir nods slightly, not really concerned. He’s sure the children will be taken care of and spoiled, especially if Mika and Jem are involved.

“Well I’ll just -” Agron motions towards the closed bedroom doors, though he doesn’t step towards them. Instead they just stare at one another, the space between them feeling to grow and expand, until everything feels choked and dim. It is a cavern, half frozen and chipped into darkness. 

“Will you sit with me?” Nasir asks softly, motioning towards the opposite side of his bench.

Agron draws in a slow breath, a deep inhale as he steps across the plush carpet, unbuckling his sword belt as he goes. It doesn’t feel like an execution sentence but it drags on his shoulders, weighs him down by what he knows is coming. He leans his blade against a nearby chair, carefully folding one leg under him as he sinks onto the cushion, back meeting crystal. 

It’s freezing in this corner, and Agron isn’t sure how Nasir is handling it, wrapped in thin silver and white cloth, a small blanket over his lap of white fur. He’s let his hair down today, the thick curls falling over his shoulders and hanging down almost his waist, a circlet of gold and silver across his temples. Raising his head from his knees, Nasir rubs his fingers under his eyes, smoothing over his cheeks. 

“I barely slept last night.” Nasir begins, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s been toying with his wedding ring, spinning the metal around and around until there is a faint red circle. “I just kept repeating what I said over and over in my head.”

“Nasir, we don’t have to do this.” Agron interjects, shaking his head. 

“We do. We do need to do this.” Nasir suddenly reaches out, taking Agron’s fingers against his own. “You don’t have to give me the chance. What I said - Please my love. I just need to tell you -”

“Hush,” Agron soothes, fingers tightening a little around Nasir’s. “Take a breath and then speak.”

Nasir nods his head rapidly, releasing Agron’s fingers so he can rub his cheeks again, the dark circles seeming more prominent in the light from the window. It takes a few moments for him to gather himself, turning to Agron with large eyes when he finally can speak.

“Sometimes,” Nasir begins, voice gentle and soft, “I still dream about the war.”

Agron doesn’t react, just stays still and listens, watches the light play over Nasir’s face. He can’t measure the love he feels for him in terms that make sense. All he can measure is the beats his heart skips when Nasir looks up at him, eyes half full of unshed tears and enough pain in his expression it feels crippling.

It is because of this, because of the all encompassing feeling of love and devotion, that Agron can't seem to close these wounds. Anyone else and he would walk away, would forget everything, but not with Nasir. It hurts in a way Agron didn't know he could hurt - ripped open along the edges of scars he thought healed long ago.

“I am there on that hill, and I can smell blood, all over me. Caesar standing above me, his sword dripping with it. Taunting me. Because he knows he’s going to win. He’s going to take you.” One of Nasir’s tears begins to fall, trailing slowly over his right cheek. “And then I see you, standing there brilliant and glowing. The entire Alptra hope, the glory of a thousand years-“ 

Nasir chokes a little. His hands are trembling, waves of flames ghosting over his knuckles, sickly blue and hot, enough Agron can feel it – knows it would blister skin if it weren’t for their shared magic. 

“Your scream as you were struck down, the sword piercing into you. I can still feel everything ripping apart. Half of my entire soul was just gone. I felt your last breath like it was my own – like I would never draw another. I couldn’t.”

“Nasir,” Agron exhales slow, his throat feeling raw and choking. Slipping his fingers between Nasir’s, he squeezes down tightly. “I am here. I am alive.” 

“I will never forget it. It is a misery nothing will ever erase. I would have followed you into death. I would follow you anywhere.” Nasir stares at him earnestly. “And yet, I open my mouth and strike you like Caesar did. I ruin everything.”

“You don’t. What you said-“ Agron starts, only for Nasir to cut him off. 

“Is true. It is true.” Nasir inhales sharply. “I am selfish for it, but if you were like them, I would not feel as guilty about Lido’s misery. About being sold. But it is a false and cruel desire. You have never been like them. I don’t want you to be, not really. I just want to not feel so fucking miserable for it.”

“You choose to be miserable, Nasir.” Agron answers sharply, eyes flickering. “You do not owe him anything. You have suffered. Our entire family has suffered. Do not sit there and tell me Gerulf didn’t put his hands on you, cut you down with words. Force you to do things as if you were a slave.”

“It is not about me. It is about what I said to you.” Nasir shakes his head. “I said them selfishly. I don’t know how to sympathize with Lido without wishing I was suffering too, but the only way for me to be is for you to become something you fear and despise. I don’t want that. I never have.”

“Gerulf wanted many things for me, and many people died and many people suffered because I wouldn’t.” Agron slowly inhales. “But many good things came from it as well. Malik. Sepp. Kieran. This marriage. Duro’s freedom. I don’t regret it. And I wouldn’t change it.”

Nasir leans forward, pressing his lips to Agron’s knuckles, resting his cheek against them. 

“Everyone always sympathizes with me. Poor Nasir. Sold so young into a land full of savages. Everyone forgets you were sold too.” Nasir traces along Agron’s wedding band. “Gerulf took your freedom from you. Sold you into a marriage he hoped would give him his warrior. You were just as much of a pawn as I was. More so, because of how Gerulf played with your life. Fuck, our first meeting nearly killed you.”

“It would not matter if I was like Gerulf wanted me to be. If I beat you and hurt you and gave you the attention that only served me.” Agron cups Nasir’s cheek. “Lido would still be a captive here. Only, you would be just as miserable – if not more so. I am not sorry I am not Gerulf’s dog. I won’t ever apologize for it.”

“You don’t need to.” Nasir leans back enough he can slip from the bench, sliding to the floor with his face downcast, his head nearly touching the cushion. “I am the one who needs to beg for forgiveness. I am sorry for what I said and what I implied. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know how much I regret what I’ve done.”

Chest clenching, Agron has to swallow the pained noise in his chest. He knew that they would eventually have to talk about what happened, but he didn’t expect this type of reaction – nor the words cutting into him. Reaching forward, Agron gently cups Nasir’s cheeks, drawing his face up. 

“Nasir, _Du bist die Liebe meines Lebens_. You do not bow to me, my love.” Leaning in, he kisses Nasir slow, chaste turning to burning as Nasir lets out a soft, shuddering sob. Agron guides him from the floor and back onto the cushion, nearly in Agron’s lap. 

“He is dead.” Agron brushes his thumb over Nasir’s lip. “Kallistos is dead. All that is left is us.”

“That is all we have ever wanted,” Nasir mumbles, holding Agron’s face between his hands. “Let’s not waste it on harsh words and fighting. I want us to be strong and in love and never separated.”

Agron does not answer with words, wrapping his arms around Nasir, he tugs him down, crushing them together. This close he can nearly sense Nasir's heartbeat against his own, can feel the tears soaking into his collar, hiccupped breath against his neck. Agron strokes his fingers through Nasir's hair, drawing him back to kiss across his cheeks, guiding him into a wet and open kiss. Nasir whimpers into it, wrapping his legs around Agron's waist, staying as close as he can. 

"I'm sorry," Nasir gasps, stroking over Agron's face, "I'm so sorry. Please."

"I forgive you." Agron grips Nasir's wrists, holding him still, "What you said hurt me, but I believe in us. We can work past this."

Nasir nods, choking on words that he can't get out. Instead, he leans in and kisses Agron's forehead, trailing kisses down his cheeks, his jaw, to his mouth, pressing another wet kiss there. Agron does not allow it to stay chaste, hands gripping down on Nasir's waist, holding him firmly. He flexes, using his thighs to lift and arch forward, pinning Nasir back to the cushions. Nasir lets out a choked moan then, arching into Agron’s grip, fingers scrambling on his shoulders. 

Agron doesn’t let Nasir turn frantic, edging on desperate with those dark eyes still streaming and nails sharp. Instead he slows them down – kisses Nasir deep and searching, takes the crown from Nasir’s temples and tosses it to the side. When they’re like this, raw and still licking their wounds, Agron doesn’t want to think about titles or weights or mantles. He wants to feel his husband against him, stripped and begging for only this – them as a singular unit. 

"Agron," Nasir gasps, lifting his shoulders off the cushions so they can guide his tunic over his head. It sends his hair scattering behind him, a mess of curls and waves that Agron instantly buries his hands in, pulls Nasir up to ravage his mouth again. He's too tall for this angle and Nasir scrambles to get his knees under him, to rear up and press the length of his body along Agron's front. He can't keep his fingers still, caressing over Agron's shoulders, down to ghost over Agron's firm stomach, gripping the sharp cut of his hips. Time has changed both of them, carving their bodies while Nasir's has gone soft, has stretched to allow for their children, Agron seems to only grow more chiseled - a huge alpha king.

"Agron." Nasir says again, breath heavy and hot on Agron's cheek. He repeats it again in silence, breathing the word against Agron's mind. Delirious with it, Nasir can barely focus as Agron pulls back, grinning wide and eyes bright. 

"What? What do you need?" Agron prompts, thumb brushing over Nasir's bruised lips. "Find voice."

"I want-" Nasir's tongue trails heavy and wet over Agron's fingers. "I want to make this better. I want to make you feel the way you make me feel."

"Hush," Agron's lips drag over Nasir's jaw, hands sliding down his smooth back to grip his ass. "You don't have to repent and pay some toll for my forgiveness."

"I want to though," Nasir leans back, terribly sober suddenly. "I want to give you everything, anything you want."

"You already do," Agron smiles softly, genuine with a hint of a dimple in his cheek. "With me, remember?"

"Always and forever."

This hunger, the unquenchable need to have his husband, is something Nasir hopes to never satisfy. Even now, with Agron towering above him, Nasir can't catch his breath - staring wide eyed at how perfect Agron looks debauched like this - hair a mess and mouth bruised. He grasps Agron's tunic, tugging hard and rough until they manage to guide it up and off, Nasir's fingers instantly going back to trace the thick lines of black ink that make up his tattoos. 

Leaning down, Agron presses his teeth against Nasir's neck, dragging his teeth against the skin until he knows a bruise forms. He marks another next to it, trailing his fingers over the ties on Nasir's pants, stripping him bare with a few tugs on ribbons. Nasir kicks them easily to the ground, struggling to tug on Agron's own, the leather stretched tight over Agron's thick thighs. He ends up having to step off the bench, tugging at the knot in the ties as Nasir presses fevered kisses along his stomach, dragging his tongue over the sharp cut of his hip. 

When the leather pools around his feet, Nasir's mouth encircles the tip of his cock, staring up at Agron though dark lashes. It floors Agron, his knees trembling as he braces one hand on the wall beside the alcove and the other in Nasir's hair again. It's too sweet, too fucking perfect as Nasir's fingers trace over his balls, cupping and rolling them, as he slides down. It's a moment suspended in time as Agron feels his cock nudge the roof of Nasir's mouth, his wet tongue tracing over the thick vein along the bottom, and then Nasir draws in a slow breath, exhaling through his nose as he takes Agron further. 

Nasir doesn't let his eyes close even as they fill with water again, swallowing around the thick girth, humming deep in his chest that is matched a moment later by Agron's growl. He starts to move then, slowly bobbing his head up and down, watching the small twitches of Agron's abs, his eyes a gleaming sheen above. Claws drag through Nasir's hair, prick at the back of his neck and Nasir can feel his own cock twitching, begging for attention, but both of Nasir's hands are glued to his husband and he ignores it for now. 

Agron is shredding his bottom lip, distracted by the soft press of Nasir's fingertips just behind his sack, caressing and enticing nerves that has Agron nearly howling. He can feel the heat traveling up his spine, sharp and acidic, pleasure curling up in his stomach, hands on Nasir's cheeks, when Agron is suddenly snapped into reality by the opening of the door. 

"Highness-" A guard begins, barely through the door and Agron is snarling, a growl that has the man dropping nearly to his knees in terror. It is an alpha warning and the guard is lucky it wasn't worse. 

"No."

It's the only word Agron can get out around his fangs, nearly hissing with the way Nasir suddenly jerks off of him, hand to his bruised mouth. He can see the shape of the guard around Agron's hip, his body curved in half with his head nearly to his knees. 

"Is it an emergency?" Nasir's voice is shredded, raw and croaking. He can feel Agron staring at him, too worked up to be able to crane his head back and really see. 

"The Higher Seer asks for-" The guard is shaking, his hands on his legs not stilling the movement. 

"No." Agron spits again, his fangs growing. "No visitors. No requests."

"Hi-Highness." The guard nearly runs from the room, slipping back out.

Nasir doesn't even see the door shut, suddenly distracted as Agron's hands slip along his arms. He grips him hard just under the ribs, flexing and lifting as Agron scrambles onto the bench. It happens too fast for Nasir to realize what is going as his legs automatically wrap around Agron's waist, crying out loudly when his back hits the cold window. Agron is a wall of heat before him, head bent as he bites viciously into the side of Nasir's neck, holding him with an arm around his waist and one just behind his back, pulling him from the window slightly. 

Moaning, Nasir's nails dig into Agron's shoulders, cursing widely as Agron spits into his hand, nails raking over Nasir's ass. It leaves Nasir shaking, feeling the welts bloom as Agron's claws retract, human fingers finding where Nasir is soft and wanting. It's not really enough, but Agron buries two fingers inside Nasir at the same time he kisses Nasir's mouth open and it is burning and pleasure at the same time. 

Agron can see out of the corner of his eye the way Nasir's body is smearing the frosted design on the window. He's flickering flames off his shoulders, bracing them back as he tries to ride Agron's fingers, whimpering words in Alptraum and Pythonissan. If they weren't so high up, Agron would be sure they would be seen, his grip on Nasir's hip keeping him up as he adds another finger. 

"Agron!" Nasir nearly screams when Agron cranes his head down, laps his tongue wet and hard over his nipple, biting down with human teeth. 

He's wet everywhere, from the sweat on his back to the tears in his eyes to his weeping his cock to his sore nipples. Agron is intoxicated with it, drunk on the smell and the divine taste of Nasir giving it up - surrendering to Agron's hunger. He craves more, slipping his arms under Nasir's thighs, curling him up and tight. When he slips inside of him, it's blank heaven - ethereal and mystical. Agron laps a droplet of sweat off Nasir's cheek, just shy of the corner of his eye, watches Nasir's pupils explode into darkness as Agron sinks fully into him. 

Vines curl up the window frame, jasmine flowers bursting into full life as the pair stares at each other, panting in the same breath. Nasir's hands, which had been nail sharp in Agron's shoulders, slowly move up, ghosting through the short strand along the back of Agron's head, caressing along the stubble. He presses a wet and open kiss to Agron's jaw, his own teeth a little too sharp as he hisses his words against the curl of Agron's ear. 

"Have me. Anything you desire is yours, my love."

Agron's hands curl over the back of Nasir's shoulders, fingers spread on his collarbones as he begins to thrust, his pace brutal and fast. Nasir can do nothing but hold on, curling up as tight as he can with his knees over Agron's biceps, muffling his cries in his mouth. Agron won't allow it though, shifts slightly to the right and thrusts up and suddenly Nasir is throwing his head back. An inferno burst from behind Nasir, flames sliding along the walls, ghosting over crystal. The ice chandelier drips slowly onto the floor, it's finer details melting away. 

Agron clasps a hand around Nasir's face, drags his mouth up to a fevered kiss, more tongue than anything else. It's too queued up, too frantic as Nasir's wails get muffled by Agron's teeth in his bottom lip. The bench creaks under them, glass window rattling as slowly Agron steps back, letting his arms come down. It lowers Nasir's legs around his waist, allows him to hug him close, no air between them as Agron's hips slam over and over against Nasir. 

"I love you," Agron gasps against Nasir's neck, "You are above all others. My moon and my life."

"No one above or below you." Nasir answers, choking on a sob as he digs his fingers into Agron's hair. "Only you."

Agron pulls back enough to grab Nasir into another kiss, his hand falling between them. It only takes a few tugs on Nasir's cock to set him off, wiggling and crying out as he comes, the pleasure and heat making flames drip from his fingers, the ends of his hair, over his shoulders. Agron holds him tight, bruises him as he thrusts again and again. It only takes a few more minutes, a few brutal seconds before Agron is coming too, growling directly into Nasir's mouth. 

Nasir's head falls back enough to gasp as he feels Agron fill him, the warm pressure nearly making him come again. He will never get enough of Agron's body on him, _in him_ , breaking down every memory of anyone before. Nasir swears he's never done this with anyone but Agron, never _made love_. He's a wreck after, wrapping his arms around Agron and sobbing into his shoulder, overcome and wrung out. 

Holding him tight, Agron steps back and off the bench, turning them so he can sit. It takes a few moments to arrange them down, Agron curling Nasir before him - closer to the fire and away from the cold glass. They lay entwined, Nasir's face still pressed to Agron's throat for a long time, sniffling and breathing each other in. 

"Are you alright?" Agron asks after a while, his thumb caressing over and over on Nasir's cheek. 

"Yes." Leaning up, Nasir presses a chaste kiss to Agron's jaw, smiling gently. "Sometimes- Nevermind."

"No, what?" Agron cranes his neck so he can meet Nasir's shy gaze, raising a brow. 

"I-" Nasir hesitates, toying with the leather strands around Agron's neck. "I think sometimes, secretly, that maybe I was a virgin when we got married."

"Nasir-" Agron begins, brow furrowing, but Nasir is quick to smooth his fingers over it. 

"No. I know it's silly. I wasn't. And it doesn't matter that I wasn't. That is all behind me, but-" Nasir finally raises his gaze again. "I have given you apart of me that I never gave to anyone before. I will never give it to anyone else. It's like a part of me was always made for you to have. And I got a part of you in return."

"You did." Agron leans forward, pressing a series of soft kisses to Nasir's forehead. 

They fall back into silence, curled up and naked, tracing over bare skin. Agron ends up pulling the fur blanket over them at some point, is nearly asleep when Nasir suddenly stirs beside him. He's muffling his giggles into his hand, staring at the ceiling. Where a carved, ice chandelier once hung now stands a half melted icicle, the water frozen once more on the floor. It's held up by a tangle of vines that extends from around the window frame out onto the ceiling itself. It is almost familiar enough to appear as their apartments in Galena. 

"I guess Kalmar was right." Nasir hiccups into his palm. "Lido is going to kill me. How are we supposed to explain this?"

"I quiet like the redecoration. It's homey." Agron muses, fingers ghosting through Nasir's hair. "Give me a few more minutes and I bet we can make more."

"Agron-" Nasir turns to chastise him and then his eyes widen, noticing the window for the first time. The curved design Nasir had manipulated earlier is half gone, the center of the window smeared into what is clearly the print of a human set of shoulders and waist. 

"Now that," Agron grins lewd and wide, "may be our best work." 

"Stop," Nasir laughs, embarrassed and shy, "We need to fix it."

"I completely agree. Do you want to ride me and leave handprints all over or-" Agron teases, forced to curl away from the window at Nasir's squawk of indignation. He slips out of Agron's arms, taking the blanket around him as he goes, wrapping it around his naked body. 

"I am going to go take a bath." Nasir calls over his shoulder, walking towards their bedroom. 

Agron watches him go, hand lazily stroking over his half hard cock. He can see the strip of Nasir's bruised and bare shoulder, his legs looking lean and perfect peeking out from the bottom of the blanket. When he reaches the door of the suite though, Nasir slowly turns his head, glancing over his shoulder at Agron. They stare at each other for a moment, trailing and slow, before Nasir suddenly drops the blanket. From this angle, Agron can see where some of his seed as started to slide down the inside of Nasir's thigh, his hips bruising already. 

"Well?" Nasir slowly raises a brow. "Are you going to help me clean up your mess or not?"

Nasir's shout of surprise gets lost in Agron's growl as he suddenly jumps up, chasing his husband down the hall. 

 

\- - - 

 

It is hard to be a Pythonissan and not find magic in the mundane. There is beauty in all things - one only has to recognize it. There is something otherworldly about the way Pietros' hand fits in Duro's and in Auctus' and in Barca's. An awe inspiring supernatural in the sound of his nephews' laughter. Something cosmic in the way sunlight fights to peek through heavy snow clouds. Pietros can find the fantastical even in this, even though he’s seen this very scene many times before. 

Barefoot and poised, Nasir raises on his toes again and turns, arms outstretched as he carefully presses his palm to first Mika’s and then Jem’s. The move flares his skirts, the deep crimson fabric parting around his legs and up to his thighs, strong and flexing when he drops to the floor in a careful arch. The twins follow a moment after, chains and bells clinking. They move in perfect sync, arm movements tight and swaying, a fluidity that only intensifies as the three roll onto their knees and then up to their feet once more. 

This is a dance they haven’t had to do many times – sacred for a great loss to their people. It aims to only be performed by the next of kin – a homage of grieving and rebirth. Kalmar still remembers his part though, both Pietros and him coming forward to touch Nasir’s hands. They have to modify it to fit the number of people and magic given, the line of dancers circling tight and then fanning out again – Nasir acting as their center. It’s a complicated step dance, the beat being kept with their feet hitting the floor and a tight drum and flute in the corner.

Together, Mika and Jem wave their arm in a large arch and a curl of both flames and water swirling above them. They spin sharply away as Kalmar and Pietros meet gazes, white and black flowers exploding into full bloom in the air, Kalmar forcing brittle branches and vines around them. They dissipate in mid air as Nasir moves forward both of his arms raising as sparks burst from his fingers. It’s beautiful and powerful – ancient magic making the room feel too small – the whole world is not large enough to contain this. 

Yet, there is more as a cold breeze gusts through the large hall – the tapestries and curtains on the walls billowing out. Snowflakes suddenly appear within the lights, spinning white flurries and crystalized ice. Lido is unrecognizable. He’s been stripped of his seer robes, washed of paint and hair undone. Instead, he has dressed in a thick skirt of deep maroon, the hem dragging on the floor. The fabric is cut low on the sides so that Lido’s hip and the top of his thighs are exposed, the skirts gathered in the center by a thick waistband of jewels and tassels. Chains of gold line around his waist, a strand of diamonds and rubies laced across his forehead as a circlet. The most surprising is the twin snake arm cuffs on each of Lido’s biceps and the dark kohl painted perfectly around his eyes. 

Abruptly, Nasir wipes the air of their joining magic, dropping back to his heels with an audible click. The twins and Pietros are quick to draw against him, staring across the hall where Lido has stopped. He for once isn’t joined by his servant.

“Who are you?” Kalmar cuts in, voice sharp and demanding. He’s stepped in front of Nasir, his hands on his hips. 

The question seems to catch Lido off guard, who jolts a little and clasps his hands before him. He’s devastatingly beautiful like this, the ghost reincarnate of who Lido used to be – of a Pythonissan prince. Only Kalmar remembers what Lido’s mother looked like – Akilah with her easy laughter and her thunderstorms. 

“You know who I am,” Lido tries not to bristle, slowly raising his eyes. He meets Kalmar’s gaze carefully, a dozen tiny icicles skidding across his bare shoulders, followed quickly by silver scales. “But I seem to have forgotten for a very long time.”

“Lido-“Pietros begins, taking half a step forward. He looks so earnest, so willing to forgive everything. 

“I remember the last time I saw all of us together,” Lido begins, voice soft, “Just before I was taken. We were staying on that hill, with the forest and the little creek. Nasir, you could barely walk. Pietros led you around everywhere. Kali, I-”

“I cried all night when they took you,” Kalmar interjects, the gold shimmering around his eyes hiding the tears that have gathered there. “I never got to tell you goodbye. You were just there and then you were gone. Father said it was for the best. You had magic we couldn’t explain. You need to be with the others. But you were my best friend, my other half, and then you were gone.”

“You are my brothers, my blood,” Lido whispers, the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “I had no choice. I wasn’t given one. But I have one now. Please. And I choose this. I choose us. I choose me.”

Kalmar draws in a slow breath, feeling Mika’s and Jem’s fingers on his arms. He can see out of the corner of his eye where Pietros has wrapped himself around Nasir, stroking his hair over his crown. The silence stretches, even as Kalmar steps forward, crossing the distance between the brothers and Lido. 

Gently, Kalmar raises his hand and presses it against Lido’s cheek, a blossoming of scales blooming from where their skin touches. Kalmar makes a considering before leaning in closer, kissing the space between Lido’s dark eyebrows. 

“It is good to have you back, big brother.” Kalmar whispers, his arms tight around Lido’s neck. Lido lifts his gaze to the rest of the group, hope and pleading written on the lines of his face.

With arms stretched wide, the twins are first to reach them, wrapping their arms tightly around their older brothers. Pietros is next followed closely by Nasir, who grips a hand to the side of Lido’s neck and pulls him down. He presses a kiss to each of Lido’s cheeks, smiling up at him through tears of his own. 

“Let us put our father to rest and turn our sights to the future.”

\- - - 

The arched vaults of the ceiling echo the pounding of the drums, the flutes and strings raising high to bounce among the crystal chandeliers and icicles. The hall is magnificent, the walls a clear glass that is cut through by staggering windows. It extends long and wide down for at least three hundred feet, opening suddenly into a large round balcony. The snowy mountains frame the background of the scene - a large pyre piled high with sticks of birch and ash. 

The hall is divided in half by a long aisle scattered with gladioli buds, their deep maroon color contrasting sharply with the snowy floor. Murmuring softly to one another, the crowd gathers on either side, seated on long, clear benches of crystal. It is easy to pick out each group from their differentiating colors and the shadowy looks cast from one to another. There is no unity here though, no sorrow filled hugs and support. The hall is only filled with the pounding music and the subdued conversation.

"Why do I feel as if we're being buried alive?" Duro whispers, leaning into Agron's side. Auctus and Barca sit on the other, stoic and stony faced. "We're sitting in a tomb."

"It will be over soon. And we can fucking go home." Agron says it as if he is trying to reassure himself of it as well, fiddling with a loose thread on his deep red tunic. It is Alptra tradition to dress in the color for funerals – symbolizing both life and death renewed. “The trip back to Galena is going to be hell if this snow doesn’t let up.”

“Maybe we’ll be stuck here forever.” Duro bemoans, keeping his voice low enough that the elves behind them won’t hear. “Spartacus will overtake the kingdom. We’ll be turned into fucking snowmen.”

“Hush,” Agron lightly pinches Duro’s thigh. “I’ll fucking burn this place down before I let that happen.”

“More like Nasir will burn this place down,” Duro mutters, glancing over his shoulder to take in the rest of the room. They’re sitting nearly in the front, with enough of a vantage point that he can spy on the others. "No one is even crying."

"Did anyone cry at Gerulf's? It's the same thing." Agron shrugs one shoulder, noncommittal and apathetic. "Half the people here would rather be anywhere else and the other half are only here for the spectacle."

"You weren't even at Gerulf's," Duro mutters, leaning further into Agron's side, "Emmerich has been staring at you for the past five minutes, by the way."

Agron is casual about the way he turns his head, glancing across the aisle to where the High Seer sits. He’s still surrounded by his pose of beautiful men, the lot of them looking glassy eyed and dazed. Agron doesn’t know what they’re on, but it’s clear they’re on something as three of them sit heavily against one another. Emmerich’s gaze is icy when it meets Agron’s, leaning to whisper into the ear of a pretty blond sitting nearly in his lap. 

After a moment the boy stands, slinking across the wide aisle into the open space beside Agron. This close, Agron can see the silver and blue eyeliner painted around his eyes and the soft bow of his lips. He leans too far into Agron’s personal space, the smell of vanilla permeating the air around them. 

“Wolf King.” The boy is wise enough not to touch Agron, but still raises his hand as if he means to, lingering just shy of Agron’s armored shoulder. “The High Seer requests your presence following the funeral feast.”

Agron can feel Duro tense behind him, fingers sharp against Agron’s hip. He doesn’t respond though, even if he leans a little into Agron’s side, wise enough to remember his rank in front of all of these guests. Agron is careful to stay calm even as anger courses though him, the barbs from yesterday still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t told Nasir what Emmerich said. Couldn’t look at Sepp sitting on Nasir’s lap last night, both of them smiling and giggling as Nasir had led them through a jumble of Alptra nursery songs, and take away any of that happiness. 

“I do not jump when your master calls,” Agron answers evenly, raising a slow brow. “I have no intention of leaving my husband’s side in the event of this tragedy. If your master requires me, I will meet with him in the morning.”

“I-“ The blonde’s brow slowly furrows, a look of staggering soberity suddenly over taking him. He flounders for a moment, “I don’t-“

He doesn’t get a chance to respond or finish what he was thinking as suddenly the drums pick up, the hetic beat taking on something a little subdued – melancholy and soft. A string instrument begins a whiney melody, singing and weaving a haunting tune and the crowd stands, the double doors at the back opening with a long whine. 

The blond is quick to leave Agron’s side, but the Alptra king doesn’t notice him. He’s trained to the group of Pythonissan slowly making their way through the hall. Six richly dressed men carry the board Kallistos has been laid upon. Flowers surround the Pythonissan king, lilies and pure white roses surround his long gray hair. They’ve dressed him exquisitely in gold, ribbons diamonds and emeralds laced across his crown. 

Behind, from oldest to youngest, Kallistos’ six sons walk in a straight line, each clasping a small white candle before them. Lido pointedly doesn’t make eye contact with his husband, head held high and eyes straight. It takes all of his willpower not to look over, to remain calm even as his heart pounds in his chest. He let Mika and Jem at him, let them paint is face with dark liner and apply golden glitter on his cheeks, dress him once more as a Pythonissan prince with soft pants cut out on the sides, chains and jewels adorning around him.

Kalmar, Mika, Jem, Pietros, and Nasir follow – a line of beautiful and tragic men each scarred in different ways. Together they are magnificent, powerful, other worldly. There is power in the room, a crackling undercurrent that makes the room fall into silence. 

Agron catches Nasir’s eye just as he’s about to pass, the dark liner around them make his gaze seem piercing and sharp. He softens for just a moment when he looks at Agron, the cupped candle in his hand flickering slight. Agron is quick to touch his fist to his shoulder – an Alptra version of a salute. 

_I am with you._

Nasir nods his head just slightly as he passes and then he’s gone. He’s followed by a few other Pythonissan, each holding an offering or some gift. They fan out among the outskirts of the open space between the crowd and the pyre, circling around the dancers. The Pythonissan brothers form a line across the space, Lido and Nasir in the center, then the twins on either side and finally Kalmar and Pietros on the ends. Each holds their candle in their right hand as the music changes from something soft and melancholy to something sharper, more biting. 

This dance is not like the usual Pythonissan dances. There is no sensual movements, no rolling of hips, no slow, carefully timed fingers. Instead, they move quickly and sharp, rapid steps rotating around in a circle, hands held and up. Elemental magic draws them together and then forces them apart, sparks and leaves and droplets of ice and water spinning around them. It crackles the air, the crystal surrounding them reflecting fractions of rainbow light. It is awe inspiring. 

There is also the overwhelming aura of sadness, of loss, of emptiness. The dance ends with the brothers grasping hands, huddled together with heads tilted towards the mountain peaks. Carefully and with silent footsteps, the group carrying the offerings moves to lay them around the pyre. They say their prayers in silent whispers, lips moving yet no sound. Finally, when they have all returned, the brothers turn towards the crowd. 

“Our father is dead.” Mika’s voice does not tremble, though it seems as if it will. “May his spirit be united in the starlight fields with his wife and those who love and wait for us there.”

“We ask those who wish to send him there on swift wings to approach and do so now.” Jem adds, bowing his head in permission. 

The crowd stands, some moving to form a long line that curves around the hall. It’s slow moving, each person lingering to whisper words and phrases in goodbye to the still king, laying flowers and small trinkets against his side. The music continues to play. 

Nasir finds Agron in the crowd, not rushing to him but instantly curving into side when they unite. Agron is quick to wrap his arm around Nasir’s shoulders, kissing his temple and breathing into his hair. Nasir is tacky with sweat, panting slightly, but he presses his face into Agron’s chest for only a moment, just long enough to shudder through a half sob. 

_”It is almost over, my love.”_ Agron strokes his fingers through Nasir’s hair. _Soon. ___

___”I don’t think I can walk up there Agron. I need to, but my legs won’t move.”_ Nasir’s fingers find the spaces between Agron’s, fitting into their familiar spot. _ _

___”I will give you strength.”_ Agron draws their hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of it as he leads them forward. They join the line behind a small group of elves and before a few older Pythonissan. They eye the Wolf King with a careful gaze, shifting between Nasir and Agron as if there is some mystery there to be solved. _ _

__The closer they get to the pyre the more clammy Nasir’s hand gets, fingers nearly bruising the back of Agron’s palm, his breath ragged. Agron feel the panic in their shared magic, Nasir’s quickening breath. He latches his arm around Nasir instead, gripping his palm along the back of Nasir’s neck._ _

__“Breathe. We are nearly finished. Kallistos will be set to greater places by your hand.” Agron murmurs in Alptraum, careful of those who surround him. “You are strong. I know you are, my moon.”_ _

__Nasir shudders in a slow breath, managing to make it the next few steps until they stand before the pyre. Kallistos is beautiful, laid on his back with hundreds of small flowers adorning around him, eyelids lilac purple and closed. His lips, now turned smooth and blue, make his brown skin seem ashy and thin. In the five years since Nasir had been with the Alptraum, it seems Kallistos has aged considerably – wrinkled around the eyes and along the forehead._ _

__“Hello Baba,” Nasir whispers, his free hand pressing to the cold wooden board Kallistos is laid upon._ _

__It’s hard for him to look at Kallistos, to see a man that was once his father, his mentor, the man who forced Nasir to be whom and what he wanted. It was not all bad. There were days when Kallistos would kiss Nasir’s face, call him his _gemma_ and brush his hair. Yet, for every day that was good there were equally awful. Days when Kallistos would brush the tears from Nasir’s face and reapply paint, telling him to earn his place or there would be none for him. _ _

__“I have spent so much time trying to figure out what to say to you and yet here I am and I did not need to prepare at all. You already know my heart.” Nasir is still shaking, but he leans out of Agron’s touch, standing on his own._ _

__“You once told me the reason the Pythonissan worship snakes is because we are ones. Sleek and beautiful and tempting and quick to strike when provoked. I thought if only I could survive a little longer, suffer a little more, lay under someone one more time that I would finally earn my fangs. My ability to strike back.”_ _

__Nasir reaches up, brushing a loose hair from Kallistos’ cold and hardened face. There are no tears in Nasir’s eyes now._ _

__“I told my husband that I could not hate you because you gave me to him. But it was a lie.”_ _

__Agron tenses behind Nasir, carefully watching._ _

__“You could not give what was already meant to be, what was crafted so long ago. Agron and I made it work, we gave ourselves to one another, just as we gave life to our sons. I have no hatred for you now, Baba, but I do not forgive you either.”_ _

__Leaning in, Nasir kisses the smooth cusp of Kallistos’ cheek, pulling back and into Agron’s waiting arms._ _

__“Go Baba and be in peace with whomever will stand beside you.”_ _

__Nasir does not falter as they proceed forward, head held high and back straight. Agron can see the tremble in his bottom lip though, the guarded pain welling inside of him. He does not mention it, does not let Nasir break even as they take their place amongst the crowd. It is some time before the line is finished, and when it completes, Lido steps forward holding a large bundle of willow branches._ _

__“Nasir you don’t have to-“ Lido whispers, his eyes rimmed in red from crying._ _

__“You wanted my son to do it,” Nasir bites, one last cruelty from a broken heart, “I will not be my father. I will not let my sons suffer to save myself.”_ _

__When Nasir takes it, a slow blue flame spirals from his palm up the wood and bursts into life at the tip. The torch illuminates the room in indigo, flickering and licking along the crystal. Straight backed and head held high, Nasir moves across the room and to the pyre, and with little finesse, he tosses it onto the base. At once it catches, scattering first around the circumference before gaining momentum and working their way up. When Nasir returns to Agron’s side, he is slow to hold onto his husband, but Agron can feel the trickling of pain still burning through him._ _

__“You are very strong.” Agron whispers, his arm a heavy and reassuring weight around Nasir’s bare hips._ _

__“Stay beside me.” Hiding his hot tears into Agron’s tunic, Nasir faces away when the flames engulf Kallistos’ body._ _

__

__\- - -_ _

__Duro straightens his cloak again, the leather straps criss crossing over his shoulder biting into the side of his neck. He woke up exhausted, a bone weary ache that has settled into his bones, hinged his joints into creaking with every movement, head pounding.. He’s tired of being cold, tired of these crystal walls, tired of being a stranger in a strange land._ _

__It’s almost time for the winter holidays in Galena. The marketplace is probably buzzing to life, glass fairies spinning in midair, the flickering lights of enchanted candles glowing in every shop window, the streets filled with laughter and song. Bakers with their windows wide open would tempt passersby with the thick scent of honey bread, apple custard, moon cookies decorated in sugar lace. Mulled wine and cider beer would be clasped in everyone’s hand._ _

__Instead of hanging wolf bobbles in the windows of the castle or playing troll hunter with his nephews, Duro is here – stuck watching his brother carefully put on the mantle of king, wears it now nearly constantly. They’re lingering outside of the Western Hall, a look of furious uncertainty dragging Agron’s young face into wrinkles, lips pressed thin._ _

__“I do not like this. We shouldn’t be here.” Duro mutters, fingers twisting in the fur across his broad shoulder again, tugging on it incessantly. “Let us go back to our suite.”_ _

__“He requested an audience and I am a king. It is my duty to meet him.” Agron replies cooly, his eyes shimmering just for a moment as they pass as a large window._ _

__“Agron, I am not Spartacus. I do not know what to say to you to get you to listen to reason. Emmerich is not to be trusted.” Duro latches onto Agron’s arm, holding him tight. “Just…don’t let him get to you like he did in the hall.”_ _

__“He has nothing over me. I know my place and the path I had to take to get there,” Agron brushes the words away as inconsequential, “I am my own man.”_ _

__“So you and Nasir have made up then?” Duro’s voice dips, urgent and hushed. “I feel we should just leave. We aren’t wanted here. No one wants to be here.”_ _

__“I made a promise long ago to Nasir that I would try and free his brother. Lido has chosen to reclaim himself, to remember who he is and see to his future.” Agron glances at Duro out of the corner of his eye. “I want to know Emmerich’s plan in case it interferes with his happiness.”_ _

__“So you meet with him because of Lido?” Duro inhales slowly. “I do not think that wise. I mean, he aided us in our time of need, but Agron this goes beyond simply giving advice. I’m not sure he deserves this loyalty, especially after what he said about Nasir and you.”_ _

__“Any man is worth something. Lido included.” Agron pauses in his gait, turning to meet Duro’s eyes. “I would not abandon you in your time of need. No matter how you treated me. I won’t ask Nasir to do the same.”_ _

__“It is different.” Duro shakes his head, surprised when Agron grips the back of his neck, bringing their foreheads together._ _

__“Stay beside me and watch. That is all I ask.” Agron smiles are only half reassuring as he turns, approaching the double doors leading into Emmerich’s magnificent suite. Two guards are swift to greet him, opening the door and closing it tightly behind._ _

__The room they enter is vast, a large round space with long, violet curtains hanging along the walls. A balcony sits beyond, separated by huge windows that stretch to the arched ceiling. The only decoration in the room is a silver table sitting in the very center. A thin curtain of white covers it, a small pillow at one end._ _

__Emmerich is standing just behind it, head bent forward as he talks to the thin man perched on the edge. The man is naked except for a thin blue robe, his body exposed through the gauzy material. It's intimate and strange, even as the man spreads his legs to make room for Emmerich to draw closer._ _

__

__“You did very well today,” Emmerich murmurs stroking his fingers through the man’s auburn hair, “Very well. I am very proud.”_ _

__“It was a small vision.” The man nuzzles against Emmerich’s touch. “I will do better next time.”_ _

__“I know you will.” Emmerich smiles, cupping the man’s jaw. He pauses for a moment, spotting the two Alptra men and nodding at them. “Ah! My guests have arrived. Sioan, will you be so kind as to leave us?”_ _

__“I will return to my rooms.” Sioan from the table, leaning in to press a kiss to Emmerich’s jaw._ _

__Unabashed at his nudity or his open robe, he strides across the floor, barefoot and grinning. When he gets closer to Agron and Duro, he looks over them, coy and easily slipping between. Agron is wise enough to step to the side, giving the man a wide berth, but Duro finds himself caught off guard as Sioan’s hand slides over him, gripping him for only a moment before he’s gone._ _

__Duro’s eyes widen at Agron, glancing back at the door and then to his brother again in shock and horror. Agron has to do everything in his power not to grin or crack a joke, instead hardening himself as Emmerich comes to greet them. He’s somehow managed to produce two cups of wine, offering one to Agron and blatantly ignoring Duro is there._ _

__“Come, come my friend. There is much to discuss.” Emmerich beckons Agron forward, his now free hand brushing over Agron’s shoulder._ _

__“Friend? Is that what we are?” Agron asks, casually taking a sip of his wine. Duro is lingering far enough back from him that he can’t see Duro’s half concealed smirk._ _

__“More than friends. We are family, dear Agron. My husband is your husband’s brother after all.” Wrapping his hand around one of the glass doorways, Emmerich pushes and they swing out, allowing them to pass onto the balcony._ _

__Far below a garden of ice and snow stretches out among low climbing walls. There are no flowers here, but there are dozens stone statues separated by stone benches and low rocky hills. Among them, Nasir is walking with Lido, Kalmar, and Pietros. Malik and Sepp play around them, chasing one another and tossing snow, yelling loudly in Alptraum. Kieran rests safely in Lido’s arms, a bundle of blue and silver fabric. They’re far enough away that Agron can only barely make out their voices, the curve of faces hidden inside cloaks. Only Nasir can Agron recognize easily, already attuned to the soft fur billow against his cheek, the royal Alptraum cloak appearing garish and bright red against all the white._ _

__“You remind me of a man that once visited here.” Emmerich begins, turning back towards the other man, leaning the bulk of his body against the railing. His eyes roam carefully over Agron, assessing the way he stands - shoulders back, feet apart, down to the bulge of his arms as he crosses them over his chest.“He was a very powerful king from a far away, young and full of himself. There was nothing he could not conquer, nothing was denied him. He had everything – wealth, glory, fame.”_ _

__Emmerich’s eyes sweep over Agron appraisingly again, swirling the wine in his cup._ _

__“Most peculiar though was what he kept closest to him - a tiger kept on a chain at his heel at al times. It was an exquisite beast - powder white, the same color as fresh snow, with large paws and teeth that could easily snap a man's arm. When he laid down, he was at least ten feet long."_ _

__“And this remind you of me how?” Agron raises his eyebrow. It has stopped snowing now, but the sky is still heavy with clouds, dark gray and angry._ _

__“The man came to me asking for me to tell him his future, begged me to tell him how to keep his wealth, his glory. He would not be satisfied until his empire was secure.” Emmerich explains, motioning again with his hand. “But what could I tell him? He had already mastered what he needed to know.”_ _

__Agron considers what Emmerich is implying, the idea churning in his stomach. It is a sickly feeling twisting deep in his gut as Emmerich continues, smiling knowingly._ _

__“He had already conquered the biggest obstacle – animal instinct, loyalty brought forth by a kind hand and a command. That tiger was his companion, his pet, would lay at his feet content to bask. But, if anyone got too close that shouldn’t have – the tiger would attack. The beast was taught to heel.”_ _

__Emmerich turns, glancing over the balcony to the gardens below. Malik and Kalmar’s chatter echoes up from the space below, the sound of playful banter and stories. From his vantage point, Agron can see Nasir’s head tilted back, letting soft snowflakes fall on his face, hood having slipped. Lido draws close to him, leaning in to whisper something, and Nasir grins wide._ _

__“You and I are very similar to that man. Both of have very powerful beings beside us, chained with us, _devoted_. Monsters that should be incapable of love or commitment, and yet, here we stand. Us, much like the man, have already conquered our biggest challenge. You have tamed a violent god.”_ _

__Agron thinks about those words, thinks about what Emmerich is implying. There is no way for the High Seer to know about Gerulf’s imprisonment of Nasir unless he saw it in a vision. Still, Agron had broken that chain, had set the man free – had never wanted a pet only a husband._ _

__“You think I have caused Nasir to heel?” Agron slowly takes another draw of his wine. He wil not turn to look at Duro, even though he can feel his eyes on him._ _

__“Of course. I do not need my gifts to see it is so.” Emmerich smiles ruefully. “When you have him, when you lay him before you, does he not beg for you? Say your name as if prayer itself? Allow himself to take your pleasure inside of him? He submits to no one but you.”_ _

__“Do you consider Lido your companion? Your partner?” Agron asks, raising a slow eyebrow. “ _Your heart?_ ”_ _

__“In some regard, yes, in others, no. Lido, my sweet dove, has been a good husband to me. He has brought me much love and many pleasures.” Emmerich misses the look of disgust that spreads over Duro’s face. “And yet, there is still more that I need.”_ _

__Taking a long drag from his wine, Agron sets the goblet on the balcony and turns back towards the old man. He knows that the conversation is shifting, is leading more towards the reason he’s been asked here. Still, the nausea in his chest won’t be abated._ _

__“Tell me of your husband, Agron. Tell me of Nasir.” Emmerich leans casually back, aiming for nonchalance. It is a guarded stance though, carefully constructed._ _

__“What would you have me tell you? What do you want to know?” Agron asks, brow still arched._ _

__“Anything. We are family, after all.” Emmerich’s smile is sharp. “What is marriage like for you?”_ _

__“We have been married four, soon to be five, years. Our sons take up most of our focus. He is a good consort, an excellent father,” Agron replies, being careful with his phrasing. “We are happy.”_ _

__“You seem so. He is very beautiful,” Emmerich glances down to the group below. “Young and willing, I imagine? You have to watch the young ones. They burn so bright, so eagerly, it feels as if they suck the oxygen straight from the air. Magnificent.”_ _

__“He is one of a kind.” Agron agrees, trailing his gaze carefully over Emmerich’s face._ _

__“Exquisite. You are blessed. Shined down upon by gods themselves.”_ _

__Emmerich nods to himself, contemplating his next words carefully. When he raises his head again, there is a strong line of determination cutting through his expression, blue eyes calculating and sharp._ _

__“I wonder then, my brother wolf, if you would be willing to share some of that joy with me.” Emmerich doesn’t move closer, but he does turn to face Agron fully. Behind him, the mountains stretch up, jagged and harsh against the gray sky._ _

__“You are very blessed Agron, beyond most men, and I only wish to have a small taste of that blessing. You see, Lido has not been given the gift of life the way Nasir has. I will never have sons or daughters to carry on my name, my blood.”_ _

__“What are you suggesting?” Agron interjects. It takes a lot of control for the words not to be tinged with growls. He purposely doesn’t allow Duro to sway into the corner of his eye._ _

__“A trade is all.” Emmerich shrugs, easy and smooth. “My husband for yours. Just for a short time. Just long enough to ensure Nasir falls heavy with my child. In exchange, Lido can fill Nasir’s vacant spot in your bed.”_ _

__“What?” Agron asks sharply. Slowly, heat begins to pool in Agron’s spine, the bones shifting and snapping. The wolf that always lives just in the back, just behind consciousness raises his head._ _

__“It is more than fair, I think. Nasir can stay here and Lido can return with you if you’re worried about being so far from your homeland.” Emmerich shrugs, as if he’s discussing the weather or foreign concepts, not a man’s life. “He will be taken care of. Respected and cherished. Once he has the babe, we will of course change back. I want the child raised by Lido and I as if it were our own.”_ _

__On the breeze, Nasir’s easy laughter filters up onto the balcony. Agron can hear Malik’s feet hitting the snow, can almost catch the scent of Sepp’s wild curls, Kieran a bundle of warmth and soft sighs. If he closed his eyes, Agron can still see the vision of them this morning. Nasir curled on his side, their sons sleeping in the soft curve of his body. They had piled together under soft fur blankets, Nasir mumbling nursery rhymes until they fell asleep._ _

__“Have you told Lido of this plan?” Agron asks, the nails digging into his palm drawing blood._ _

__“No. No sense in troubling him with these plans. Lido is a fragile man. He has a sore festering from not being able to provide this for me. I want to surprise him with the solution.” Emmerich explains, a grin growing over his face as he watches Agron. “I am sure you understand.”_ _

__When Lido had come to visit this morning the only thing Agron had ‘understood’ was the curving bruises over the column of his neck, the gaunt expression on his face. Lido had been redressed in Seer garb, the paint streaked over his hands, over his face. It no longer looked like a mask – more of a brand._ _

__“I make no assumptions, Agron, but I will give Nasir the time and pleasure he deserves – of someone of his status.” Emmerich continues, picking up his goblet again. “In time, he may even see it as a gift.”_ _

__Agron glances over the edge of the balcony, down to the men below. Nasir is crouched down, one hand on Malik’s shoulder as he enchants snowflakes to billow around the boy. Malik’s delighted cries draw Sepp over who both stamp their feet and turn in quick circles. Beside them, Lido looks on with an easy smile, Ariadne at his side._ _

__It’s a subtle thing, a curl of taste at the back of Agron’s mouth. Nasir and Agron forever entwined, magic rippling and expanding. The sound of Nasir’s cries, the taste of his body, always ingrained in every inch of Agron’s skin. A connection so ethereal it is untouched by human hands. Agron’s patience runs too thin then, with Emmerich’s spreading grin._ _

__“You make an interesting suggestion.” Agron curves his mouth in consideration, stepping across the space to crowd into Emmerich’s side. “But I have to ask you something.”_ _

__“What?” Emmerich’s grin ticks slowly down, forced to lean over the balcony edge by Agron’s claw tipped hand on the back of his neck. “Agron!”_ _

__“In all your power, in all your wisdom, you never asked me how Gerulf died.” Agron replies, casual light. “I will give you a hint.”_ _

__Agron uses his nails to turn Emmerich’s head, making him stare down at Nasir. He’s stood back up, the wind billowing his cloak around him. Agron can feel the air static rise, Nasir turning sharply to stare up at the balcony – he already knows. Nasir’s mouth forming Agron’s name, his gaze sharp. He has enough time to stop it, but Nasir does nothing but stare with dark, unblinking eyes._ _

__“You can’t-“ Emmerich begins to say, but it is lost in the breeze._ _

__“Your metaphor is wrong, High Seer. It is a broken chain that Nasir wears, not one linking him to me. As it should be with Lido.” Agron growls into Emmerich’s ear, the words hot and fast. “You are a fool if you think I will allow anyone in my family to fall as slave to another’s pleasure.”_ _

__“Agron please!” Emmerich cries, thrashing to get away._ _

__“No.”_ _

__Agron latches one hand under Emmerich’s arm, lifting sharply. With a scream that bounces around the mountains, that reaches the very sky, Emmerich suddenly tumbles over the balcony’s edge, a falling mass of white fabric and old skin. The drop seems to take forever, his body colliding with one of the statues on his way down, a sickening crunch as blood splatter over the snow. There, at the base of it, Emmerich draws in his last, ragged breath._ _

__Nasir is quick to snatch Malik to his chest, falling to his knees to press Sepp’s face into his shoulder. They are too young to see this, too innocent to understand. Kieran is pushed into Pietros’ arms, Lido’s scream an echo of his fallen husband’s, ongoing and high. Slowly, Nasir trails his eyes from where Emmerich’s body is pooling crimson, up to the balcony, eyes wide and so dark against the pale landscape._ _

__“Fuck Agron!” Duro hisses behind, dashing up to look over the edge. “Fuck! Why am I always here when you decide to kill people?”_ _

__

__“Brother intuition,” Agron shrugs, leaning back, “Besides, Emmerich fell. Tragic accident.”_ _

__Agron and Duro stare at one another, a subtle shift in understanding. Duro sighs deeply as he turns back towards the door. The guards are starting to flood into the garden below, their yelling a background noise._ _

__“Hey Agron?” Duro asks, pausing before the doors, “Do you think he saw it coming?”_ _

__\- - -_ _

__Standing on his toes, Nasir loops his arms around Agron’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss along his jaw. Agron pets his hands through Nasir’s long hair, tilting his head to capture Nasir’s lips instead. The kiss is slow and sweet, Agron’s fingers gripping the sides of Nasir’s waist, holding him close._ _

__“Thank you for everything.” Nasir murmurs, breathing the words into the warm space between their lips._ _

__“I told you, there is nothing I would not do for you.” Agron nuzzles his nose against Nasir’s, kissing him dirty and wet for only a moment, a glimpse of heat before he draws back._ _

__“You ready to go?” Agron asks, motioning towards the waiting caravan._ _

__“Absolutely.” Nasir exhales, wiping at his lips as he turns towards their waiting wagon. “I don’t think I ever want to see crystal or snow or ice again.”_ _

__“Thank fuck our castle is made mostly of wood and stone then.” Agron laughs, looping an arm around Nasir’s shoulders. “Though there isn’t much I can do about the snow.”_ _

__“That’s a deal breaker for me. I guess I’m going to have to leave then.” Nasir playfully pulls away, sprinting towards the wagon. He doesn’t get far though as a voice from behind him makes him pause._ _

__“Wait!”_ _

__Lido is walking down the steps of the castle, magnificent and beautiful in a pure white robe, the collar downy fur and a crown of crystal wrapping around his head. It is not his new attire that is most surprising, but his hand tightly grasped in Ariadne’s. She had removed her ribbon across her brow, her hair falling in dark ringlets – a matching circlet among them._ _

__The Alptra had already said their goodbyes to everyone else, promises to visit and well wishes given. It was just Lido’s group, the last remaining piece, that had been left alone. He stands before them now though, grin wide across his face - a true look finally._ _

__“I only wanted to wish you safe travels and let you know that the Alptra are always welcome within our walls.” Lido spreads his arm back, motioning towards the castle. “Though I think our next meeting should be within your land.”_ _

__Agron smiles slightly, watching Nasir’s gaze tracking over his brother carefully. Though there is a new air to him, a rejuvenation of sort, Nasir is still wary of this change. Agron cannot blame him._ _

__“You are always welcome in Galena or any land within our kingdom.” Agron bows his head. Against his side, Nasir takes a step forward, hand stretched out to touch Lido’s cheek. Ice travels over it, getting lost in Lido’s hair, a splattering of silver scales following the path._ _

__“Wounds heal. Remember that, big brother.” Nasir smile softly. “Allow it to.”_ _

__There is a darkness in Lido’s eyes that hint at the pain of having burned both his father and his husband within days. There is hope there too – a look towards the future and the possibilities. He will not cry for Emmerich, will not mourn lost time, but instead find solace in what can now be._ _

__“May Sator keep you safe on your travels.” Lido leans in, kissing Nasir’s forehead. “We will see you soon.”_ _

__Turning, Agron helps Nasir up into the wagon before following him inside. Until they get out of the snow, the royals are forced to travel close and in warm quarters. Malik instantly finds a resting space between the folds of Agron’s lap, leaning back into him as Sepp mirrors the same with Duro. Kieran is a sleeping bundle against Nasir’s chest, his blanket a large map of the Alptra kingdom._ _

__“Daddy?” Malik asks after a while, leaning his head back to look up at his father._ _

__“Yes little man?” Agron trails his fingers through his dark curls._ _

__“Can we be happy now?” Malik tugs his fingers on the leather cords around Agron’s neck. “No more sad?”_ _

__“No more sad, baby boy.” Nasir answers instead, his smile small and sincere. “Only happiness.”_ _

__“Until the end of our days.” Agron finishes._ _

__Outside, the Alptraum make their way slowly down the mountain and back towards their home._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I made a pretty dope om&m soundtrack too! You can find it here: [of magic & monsters soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/user/venomedveins/playlist/10dXToUfKDbBusvRc3ppIT?si=rORgofobS7iRLkq0QYZc0w)


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